


I and Love and You

by grayhello22



Category: When Calls the Heart (TV)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Family, Romance, faith - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-04-04 12:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14019933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayhello22/pseuds/grayhello22
Summary: As Jack prepares to leave for the Northern Territories, he and Elizabeth must navigate the hurdles of his dangerous job, her family's expectations, and their future. And the quiet town of Hope Valley will change forever when a stranger with a dark secret comes to town.





	1. All I Need

She didn't know what was worse, the deafening silence surrounding them or the look of utter grief and guilt etched into the contours of his handsome face. Elizabeth dared to glance over at Jack as he pushed his slice of shepherd's pie around on his plate. His broad, strong shoulders were slumped, lacking the confidence and poise she had grown accustomed to. His beautiful, clear eyes, were cloudy and dark, unable to look away from the scratch on the table and up at her.

She knew he felt guilty, blaming himself for Doug's death. They both knew that Doug wasn't old enough, experienced enough to handle the task of the Northern Territories division leader. But Jack had turned down the promotion and his friend had been promoted to Corporal. And as they both continued to pretend to eat, Elizabeth could see the thoughts racing through Jack's mind as clearly as if he had typed them up on the typewriter sitting on her desk.

What if he had taken the promotion? What if he had been with the mountie squad during the ambush? Would things have turned out differently? Or would it be Jack's memorial service tomorrow instead of Doug's? The last thought sent a shiver down Elizabeth's slender spine.

Elizabeth knew that Jack had turned down the promotion because of her. She knew when he first told her, that warm spring night on the steps of the saloon porch, she should have said something: that she was proud of him, that she would support him, that she didn't want to be a hindrance to his career… that she loved him. Elizabeth knew they should have talked about the potential assignment in further detail. But she couldn't bring herself to do anything other than kiss his dimpled cheek. It had been selfish to leave it at that, but Elizabeth, if she was honest with herself, was relieved when he turned down the assignment. It meant that Jack would be safe and by her side. It was selfish, to be sure, but at the time, Elizabeth couldn't have cared less.

Many nights since then, however, Elizabeth began to wonder why Jack never mentioned Superintendent Collins' offer until after he declined. After all, Jack was a good mountie, one who had all the qualities of leadership, moral fiber, and the dedication required to rise through the ranks of the Royal Mounted Police. He should have been thrilled! He should have raced to tell her the news. So why wasn't he? Why did Elizabeth hear about his potential promotion in passing? The answer came suddenly to Elizabeth one evening as she kissed Jack goodnight and walked through the front door of her house.

She and Jack, once they had admitted to each other their true feelings, had never shied away from displays of affection. Sweet endearments like "sweetheart" and "my dear" passed through their lips. The gentle interlacing of their fingers as she and Jack strolled through town, all encompassing hugs, a quick peck on the cheek or forehead… passionate embraces in the privacy of the row house. She and Jack never shied away from showing each other just how much they loved one another.

But after the settlement flood, a subtle shift had occurred in their interactions with one another. It had been hard for her, seeing the man she loved so close to death and unable to do anything but sit and wait and pray. It was the most helpless Elizabeth had ever felt in her life. The sudden reminder that Jack might not always be in her life sent Elizabeth into a panicked frenzy that she often had to talk herself down from. Even when Jack had fully recovered, Elizabeth had been uncharacteristically clingy, desperate to keep him in her sight as often as possible.

Jack, Elizabeth realized, had picked up on her change in behavior. He began to give her more detailed accounts of his schedule, where he normally would be during certain times of the day. And if for whatever reason, Jack had to go out of town, he made sure to let her know when he was due back. Jack's hugs became more frequent, his kisses more passionate. His hand gripped hers a little tighter, as if she were a skittish bird that may flap her wings and fly away at a moment's notice.

Elizabeth was afraid of losing Jack. And Jack was afraid that he was losing Elizabeth to her fear.

Jack didn't bring up Collins' offer for fear of hurting her, fear of leading her to believe that his career was more important than their relationship, fear that her affections may begin to wane. Perhaps that is what hurt Elizabeth the most: Jack's lack of faith in the strength of her affections, her love and commitment to him. What's more, her track record on the matter substantiated those fears. No, Elizabeth thought,  _that's_  what hurt the most.

In worrying for him, in trying to keep him safe, Elizabeth had hurt Jack more deeply than any flood, fire, or mining disaster ever could.  _That_  is what cut Elizabeth to her core. She wouldn't hurt him anymore.

"I love you, Jack," Elizabeth's voice was soft and warm, like honey mixed into warm cinnamon tea, "You know that, don't you?"

Jack looked up from the table for the first time all evening. His eyes landed on her face as a weak smile graced his lips, not even true enough to bring out those dimples Elizabeth so loved to kiss.

"Of course," was his simple reply, "I love you, too."

Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to smile back, "Do you really? Do you really know how much I love you?"

Jack's smile quickly turned into a sad frown. Elizabeth set her fork onto her plate and placed her slender hands delicately into her lap. She took a deep breath and answered for him, "Because if you did, I think you would have told me about Superintendent Collins' offer."

Jack's frown turned to a scowl, "Elizabeth."

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Jack," Elizabeth cut him off before Jack could begin to rebuke her statement, "I'm apologizing."

Jack's scowl morphed into a confused gaze at the woman across from him, "What on earth are you apologizing for?"

Elizabeth sighed and glanced down at his hands, resting on the table. Those beautiful, strong hands that built a church and school for her and the community of Hope Valley. Those talented hands that illustrated books and painted carnival signs. Those rough, well worked hands that held her with tenderness and reverence. She reached over and clasped his left hand in both of hers, rubbing her fingers along his ring finger. How she desperately wanted to slide a wedding ring onto that finger.

"I know that you turned down Collins' promotion because of me. I know that you were worried what my reaction might be," Elizabeth dared to chance a look at Jack. His eyes were narrowed as he focused on their joined hands, "I need you to know that it's okay if you want to take the promotion. I need you to know that I'll follow you anywhere you need to go. I need you to know that I love you, and nothing you say or do could ever change that."

"Stop," Jack's words cut through Elizabeth's thoughts as he lifted his hand out from under hers, a look of disgust marred his handsome face, "Stop trying to make me feel better about all of this, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth didn't stop. She shook her head as Jack stood up from the table and began to pace around the living room, "No. Jack, You need to understand that this isn't your fault. Doug's death is not your fault."

Jack began to run his hands through his short brown hair, "Stop."

Elizabeth didn't stop, "I know you feel guilty about this but you're not the one to blame here. You need to-"

"STOP!"

Elizabeth stopped. Tears welled in her eyes at the sight of Jack, the love of her life. His hair was disheveled, his face red with a mix of emotions: anger, disgust, pain, sorrow, guilt. His beautiful dark green eyes wet with tears.

"I'M THE REASON DOUG DIED! I TURNED THIS PROMOTION DOWN! I'M THE ONE WHO'S RESPONSIBLE!"

"YOU TURNED DOWN THAT PROMOTION BECAUSE YOU WERE AFRAID I WOULD RUN AWAY!"

Jack stopped dead in his tracks. They stared at one another for a few moments, or minutes, he wasn't quite sure. Elizabeth's cheeks were flushed pink and her nostrils flared with passion. It was an odd sight, her sitting in the dining chair with perfect posture and fire in her eyes. He loved her all the more in that moment. And just like that, all his fears and doubts crept up into the forefront of his mind. Would she be able to handle the life of a mountie's wife? Was she truly happy in this wilderness town? Would she ever look back and wonder what it would have been like if she had said yes to Charles?

And suddenly, he knew, he truly understood that she had found him out. She knew the thoughts rattling around in his head: his desire to accept Collins' assignment offer, his desperate need to do his job, the worry that had kept him from coming to her with news of the promotion the first time… the fear that kept him from proposing.

Jack took a breath and slowly lowered his large and suddenly heavy frame onto the chesterfield sofa. He lowered his head into his hands and took a deep, shaky breath. Jack couldn't seem muster up enough energy to say anything, and so the silence engulfed them once again.

He felt more than heard Elizabeth's footsteps, moving closer to him. Jack heard the rustling of the fabric of her skirts and felt her sink onto the couch cushion and a gentle hand came to rest on his thigh.

"Jack," Elizabeth's voice was soft and raw with emotion. She placed her other hand on the back of his head, playing with the strands at the base of his neck, begging him to look up at her. Jack complied. The sight of her broke his heart.

Elizabeth was crying now, silent tears falling down her beautiful face and onto her soft, full lips. It was plain to see that her heart was breaking… for him. Love radiated through her, though, and it was all Jack could do to remember to breathe.

"I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am for how much I hurt you when we were in Hamilton with my family."

Jack lowered his gaze, unsure of how to get Elizabeth to stop talking about those few days. The way she seemed to fit like a puzzle piece in the shiny, glittering world of Hamilton while he stuck out like a sore thumb.

"I cannot tell you how horribly sorry I am for not defending you to my father," Jack was forced to look back up at Elizabeth as she cupped his chiseled face to look at her, "You are the single most amazing man I have ever met, Jack. You're so smart and brave and selfless and kind. I try every day to be a better woman so I might be worthy enough of your love one day. Though I don't think I will ever be."

Her, not worthy of him? He was the lower class farm boy turned mountie. He was the one society looked down upon. And not matter how well he did as a mountie, Elizabeth's father would never approve. He would never gain the man's blessing to marry Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth," he began, a silent plea to stop.

Elizabeth ignored it, "I'm sorry for Charles. I'm sorry I carried on and flirted with him. I'm sorry I ever gave him any idea that I had eyes for anyone but you. I'm sorry that he came here and asked me to marry him, in the very church you built so I could have a place all my own to teach. I'm sorry you had to see any of it."

Jack swallowed hard, the memory of that day blazing through his mind. Still, Elizabeth forced him to hold her gaze. And by God, she was so passionate in her stare he couldn't have denied her any request.

"More than anything," Elizabeth's honey voice cracked, "I'm sorry that I have done nothing to prove just how much I love you. I'm so sorry that I've given you so many reasons to doubt just how deep my love for you is, Jack. I know that's why you turned down the promotion. I know that's why you haven't asked me to marry you. I've done nothing to prove that I'm ready or worthy to be your wife. But God, Jack. I do love you. More than anyone in this world, I love you. And I so desperately want to be your wife."

Jack couldn't help the tears falling from his eyes. Elizabeth wiped them away with a flick of her thumbs.

"I'm terrified of losing you. I won't hide that from you. Every time I see you ride out of town on your rounds I say a prayer that you'll come back to me safe and sound. But Jack," Elizabeth's voice cracked again as she fought to hold back the tears welling up, "I would rather say that prayer every day for the rest of my life than see you rot away at a job that you hate. I'd rather worry about you day and night, knowing that you're doing what you were meant to do, than see you whither away behind a desk. Just because I'm afraid of losing you doesn't mean that I can't handle your job."

Elizabeth removed herself from her spot on the sofa and knelt down beside Jack. Fresh tears welled in his eyes and water now rolled down her cheeks, "I love you, Constable Jack Thornton. I love how brave and selfless you are. I love how kind and smart and funny you are. I love how eat my cooking even though I burn dinner half the time. I love how your forehead crinkles when you're concentrating on sketching or painting. I love how your dimples reach your eyes when you laugh deep in your belly. I love you so much I can scarcely breathe. And I know that loving you means living with the dangers of your job."

Jack stared at the beautiful woman at his feet. Elizabeth Thatcher had laid her soul bare before him, offering up her heart like a sacrifice upon the alter. How did she know him so well? How did she know what he needed to hear? What on earth had he done to deserve such a blessing? He decided that he wouldn't bother questioning it.

Jack cupped his hands around Elizabeth's face and pulled her up into a kiss. She was all to willing to be swept up into the passionate embrace, pulling herself onto Jack's lap. Elizabeth's hands found their way into Jack's mussed hair as his took hold of her slender waist. Elizabeth began to tug on his lower lip and Jack's tongue begged entrance to her mouth. Elizabeth granted it whole-heartedly. Jack leaned back into the sofa and Elizabeth followed, her lips never leaving his.

Jack pulled away, his lungs burning for air. He looked up at the Elizabeth, her face flushed pink, hair disheveled and the waist of her dress wrinkled. Love beamed through her eyes and face and Jack couldn't help the radiate smile that began to dance across his lush, full lips, "I love you, Elizabeth Thatcher."

Elizabeth's smile was nothing short of radiant, "I love you, Constable Jack Thornton. And I think you should wire Superintendent Collins' and accept his promotion offer."

Jack's brow furrowed slightly. For a few brief moments, he had forgotten. He had forgotten all about the telegram that had come yesterday informing him of Doug's death and Superintendent Collins' second attempt to get Jack to accept the position of Division Commander. For a few moments, there was no guilt, no anger or uncertainty, just Elizabeth, their love, and the renewed hope for their future.

"Elizabeth," Jack began to speak but Elizabeth held a slender finger against his lips.

"I'll follow you wherever you need to go, Jack."

"Your entire life is here. Abigail, your students," Jack took a deep breath, "Hope Valley is your home, Elizabeth."

"Abigail will always be my best friend. We can write or send telegrams. And yes, I'll miss my students, but I'm sure there will be plenty of young children traveling up to the Northern Territories. And luckily," Elizabeth's voice sounded off teasingly, "I know a rather talented mountie who is quite good at building churches and schoolhouses."

Jack couldn't help but chuckle at that. He brought Elizabeth in for a quick kiss before she pulled away and looked him square in the eye, "You're my home, Jack. Wherever you are is home."

Jack gave a small, breathtaking smile, dimples and all. Elizabeth smiled back and kissed him softly. He gave another gentle kiss before breaking away and pulling back slightly.

"I will wire Collins tomorrow morning and accept the position," Jack's voice filled with confidence and certainty, "under one condition."

"Name it," Elizabeth replied.

Jack gave a wide grin, "Marry me."

Elizabeth smiled brightly, wrapped her arms around Jack's neck, "Of course, Jack. I thought you'd never ask."

Jack pulled Elizabeth in for a searing kiss…. only to be interrupted by a squeal of delight from next door.

"Well, no need to announce our engagement to anyone," Jack stated jokingly, "Rosemary will have told everyone by day break."

Elizabeth didn't even try to stifle the giggle that reverberated through her chest. Jack soon joined in before pulling Elizabethan for another kiss.


	2. See The Love

Jack smiled, eyes still closed to the world around him, as Elizabeth silently played with his hair while grading last week's spelling tests. It was a moment of pure peace and joy… and God knows the young couple needed it.

The past two weeks had been nothing but turmoil. First, Jack and Elizabeth attend Doug's memorial service in Union City. There, Jack spent a great deal of time with Doug's mother. The two shared stories of the young Mountie, laughing and crying throughout. And while it had been terribly sad and difficult time, it had been quite thrilling all the same when Jack was able to introduce Elizabeth as his fiancee for the first time.

After Doug's funeral, Elizabeth was forced to travel to Cape Fullerton once again in order to testify against Thomas Higgins along with several other teachers, as well as clear her damaged reputation as and educator. Jack had been unable to go with her, due to the rising chaos in town associated with the ever expanding Pacific Railroad. And suddenly, and without Jack realizing it, two weeks had flown by. Elizabeth had been reinstated to her teaching position in Hope Valley, and she had been more diligent and determined than ever to prove herself to the town even though it seemed that every parent in town was thrilled to see the Elizabeth Thatcher reinstated.

"I received a letter from Julie today," Elizabeth stated simply, though Jack could hear the delight hiding in her voice.

Jack smiled, his eyes still closed, "And what did this letter say?"

"Well," Elizabeth began excitedly, "Julie is ecstatic. She's decided that she is moving to Hope Valley immediately to help me begin planning the wedding."

"I'm sure that Tom moving here in two months with the railroad has nothing to do with it."

"Oh hush," Elizabeth smacked his stomach playfully, earning a chuckle from her fiancé, "they're both keeping out of trouble for now so I won't question it. I seem to recall a particular mountie, on several occasions, reminding me not to go looking for unnecessary trouble."

Jack gave a hearty laugh at Elizabeth's last comment as he pulled her left hand up to kiss her knuckles, "Good to know that you actually listen to me. I can leave knowing that a little common sense has rubbed off on you."

Elizabeth smiled briefly before Jack's words fully settled in her mind. He was leaving in three days to travel with a unit of Mounties to the Northern Territories. He was leaving and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. The knowledge of all that could happen once Jack was out of her site and out of her reach left Elizabeth with a terrible ache in her belly that she couldn't quell.

She had scoured through her precious books for any information on the Northern Territories to learn everything about the landscape that her fiancé would call home for the foreseeable future. The Spring and Summer were temperate enough and the geography was fairly similar to Hope Valley. Unfortunately, it wasn't Spring or Summer. Winter was quickly approaching and if the farmer's almanac was right, as it had been for the past three years, Northern Canada was in for a harsh winter. As if fighting outlaws weren't bad enough, Jack would have to fend off the bitter cold and howling winds. And all Elizabeth could do was sit and wait for him to come home.

"Where did you go?"

Elizabeth looked down Jack, his beautiful hazel eyes staring up at her with love and concern. She smiled at him then and carded her slender fingers through his hair once more.

"It just hit me."

"That I'm leaving?" Jack's eyes narrowed and he raised a hand to caress Elizabeth's rosy cheek.

Elizabeth nodded as she let her graded papers rest on the soft picnic blanket underneath them. Her now free hand reached up to hold Jack's strong, calloused hand in place. She hoped he would leave it at that and not press her for any further details as to the reason for her melancholy mood.

But of course, Mountie Jack was far too observant to leave well enough alone. Elizabeth watched as his stunning gaze narrowed as he studied her worried features and by God if she didn't love and hate when he did this. It was a fascinating sight, to watch the wheels in his brain turn and work out minute details that most men would pass off as nothing. But as awe-inspiring and, well, infuriatingly attractive as it was, Elizabeth couldn't stand it when she was the recipient to his detailed study. Especially because he was rarely wrong.

"It's not just that, is it?"

Elizabeth closed her eyes and rested her chin further in his sturdy palm. She lowered her head as Jack rose to sit up with her, his free hand coming to tangle itself in Elizabeth's auburn hair.

"My father wrote to me," Elizabeth's voice was barely above a whisper.

Jack's jaw clenched involuntarily, already knowing what William Thatcher said. If it was anything along the lines of the three letters of rejection Jack had received throughout his courtship with Elizabeth, it couldn't be good.

"He wrote that he and my mother did not support our engagement and that they would not be attending my wedding so long as you were the groom.

Jack took a deep breath, unsure how to comfort his fiancee.

"Elizabeth," his voice was warm like maple syrup and Elizabeth took in a deep breath, taking in as much of his soothing presence as she could get before he left, "Sweetheart."

"I just don't understand, Jack," Elizabeth's voice cracked as Jack pulled her into his chest. She felt a gentle kiss to her forehead as tears started to well in her deep, blue eyes, "How can he not see how wonderful you are? How happy you make me?"

Jack placed a gentle hand underneath Elizabeth's delicate chin to stare into her watery eyes, a weak smile playing at his lips, "He's your father, Elizabeth. In his mind, no one will ever be good enough for you. And I can't say that I completely disagree with him. He just wants to make sure that you'll be cared for. And we haven't had a good enough relationship to feel reassured."

"But that's his own fault," Elizabeth countered, refusing to let her father get off scot-free, "you tried to get to know him and let him get to know you. He wrote you off the minute he met you… and I didn't do anything to defend you."

Elizabeth tried to lower her gaze, but Jack refused. His hand held her face steady, "Listen to me, Elizabeth. Don't you dare blame yourself for this. This has nothing to do with you. This is about your father and me. I know how much his opinion means to you, and I promise you that I will continue to do everything I can to ease the tension between you. I'm sorry that my presence has caused such a rift between the two of you."

Elizabeth shook her head furiously, "Don't you dare apologize, Jack. You've done nothing wrong. This isn't just about you. My father has never approved of my choice to teach. He always chocked it up to a flight of fancy, a youthful urge for adventure. He saw you as some last ditch juvenile rebellion. And as much as I love you for moving past it, the fact remains that I let him treat you horribly when we were in Hamilton."

Jack's jaw clenched and this time he was the one to lower his head. Elizabeth refused to lose his gaze, "I will never be able to apologize enough for my behavior in Hamilton, Jack. You… you are without a doubt the best man I have ever known," Elizabeth didn't even try to fight the smile that always seemed to grow when she thought of Jack, "You are so kind and smart and strong. You're brave and good and… all I can do is thank God every day that He gave you to me."

"You humble me, Elizabeth," Jack's voice was soft and shy and Elizabeth couldn't help but think that it must have been what he sounded like as a small boy. Charlotte often remarked that Jack was a soft-spoken, shy young boy. The thought brought a gentle smile to her lips.

"I love you, Jack Thornton," Elizabeth declared, "I can never tell you that enough."

"I love you, Elizabeth Thatcher," Jack whispered so sweetly it took her breath away, "I will never get tired of telling you, how much I love you."

Jack gave a quick grin as Elizabeth pulled him in for a kiss. Their lips melded together in a slow, lingering dance. Elizabeth's soft, slender fingers carded through Jack's dark brown hair, taking purchase in the short silky strands. Jack's hands went to Elizabeth's hair and to her waist, pulling her close.

Quickly, as all of their kisses seemed to invoke these days, passion raged within them. Elizabeth's hands moved to cling to Jack's light blue cotton button up. He had forgone the vest that usually accompanied the shirt, leaving Elizabeth to feel the hard planes of his chest and sculpted muscles of his arms and shoulders. The beautiful feeling of his muscles under her hands only encouraged Elizabeth, and she pulled his lips fiercely to her mouth.

Hot desire surged through Jack as he kissed her back with a fury and passion that sometimes scared him and drove him to the brink. Elizabeth whimpered as Jack's mouth left hers to trail kisses from the corner of her lips and down toward the hollow of her neck. Goodness, how he wanted her.

Elizabeth could scarcely think. Gracious, how she wanted Jack. She held the back of his head, playing with the strands of hair that were beginning to curl due to their length. She wanted him to claim her, to giver herself to him. It was too much… he was too much. She prayed he would never stop….

Of course, he stopped, he had to stop. But Jack would be lying if he said it wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever done in pulling away from Elizabeth, his future wife, in the heat of the moment.

"You're going to be the death of me, Elizabeth Thatcher," Jack exhaled against Elizabeth's neck that was somewhat red from the scruff adorning Jack's handsome face. Elizabeth giggled.

Dammit…. she giggled. She really was going to be the death of him.

"You're not allowed to die, Jack Thornton," Elizabeth teased before pulling his face up to hers and placed a single, solid kiss to his beautiful lips, "Not for a very long time."

"Yes, Miss Thatcher," Jack smiled that grin with those damned dimples that made Elizabeth go weak in the knees.

Elizabeth flashed him a quick grin, laughter dancing in her eyes as she ran her fingers through his hair, "I love you, Jack Thornton. I cannot wait to be your wife."

"I love you, Elizabeth Thatcher. I cannot wait to be your husband."

Elizabeth smiled at Jack as though she held a secret. It was intriguing, tantalizing, and by God, insanely attractive. Jack's eyes narrowed in playful confusion as he watched the wheels turning in that beautiful brain of hers.

"What?"

Elizabeth bit her lip, "Why don't we?"

Jack chuckled, "Why don't we what?"

"Why don't we get married? Today?"

Jack's eyes widened and Elizabeth nearly giggled at the comical display. It was fun to know that she could still surprise him.

"Elizabeth," Jack was flustered, excited and confused. Elizabeth decided that he was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, "Are you sure? I mean… I would have married you the minute you got back from Cape Fullerton but… your family."

"My family," Elizabeth took a deep breath and calmly continued, "my family will simply have to get over it. Julie will understand and Viola couldn't care less. My father… well, he's made his opinion on the matter very clearly. And my mother is too scared to go against my father even though I know for a fact that she adores you. They wouldn't have been at our wedding, whether it's today or six months from now."

Jack gazed in wonder at the woman before him. What did he do to be so blessed? How on earth to he ever win favor with this marvel of a woman? He would do everything in his power to make her happy. He would do everything possible to give her the best life.

"I don't want you to regret anything. I don't ever want to be the reason you regret anything in your life."

A soft, beautiful, loving smile adorned Elizabeth's full lips as she pulled her betrothed in for a tender kiss.

"The only thing I will ever regret in this life, Jack, is that I did not marry you sooner."

Jack couldn't contain the smile that beamed from his face.

"Marry me, Jack Thornton," Elizabeth whispered, "marry me today."

Jack pulled her and claimed her lips with his.

"Of course, Elizabeth. Of course, I'll marry you."


	3. You Should Give Me Wedding Rings

Candles cast a warm, hazy glow throughout the small church and school building. Light from the flames danced against the glass windows on either side of the small white building. The sun was almost fully set, faint hues of pink and blue and orange were scattered across the sky. The large pond in the distance reflected the landscape like a Monet or Degas, or one of Jack's pastel paintings. Elizabeth didn't even notice. Her eyes were transfixed on the dashing young Mountie in his red serge waiting patiently at the end of the aisle.

Pastor Frank Hogan stood with him in the center of the aisle, bible in hand, ready to perform the impromptu wedding ceremony. Lee Coulter stood just off to the side, smiling at Elizabeth and Jack, his eyes glancing every so often to his wife, the memories of their own wedding dancing just behind his eyes.

Rosemary stood to the left of the men, eyes filled with joyous tears and a gentle smile dancing across her face; the kind of smile reserved only for cherished friends and family. Her gaze flittered between her dear friends and her husband, the memory of her own wedding still fresh in her mind.

And Jack, good heavens, Jack, stood in front of her, his red serge burned brightly, like its own flame against the candles around the church, his conduct medal shining in the light. His sergeant and rough rider patches a new addition to his uniform.  _Dear God, how could one man be so beautiful?_  Tears filled her eyes and Elizabeth could scarcely breathe, ever fearful that this was all a dream, that with one wrong move she would wake up in a big house in Hamilton, surrounded by servants and completely alone. And then Jack smiled that gorgeous dimpled grin.  _Dear God, how could one man be so perfectly made for her?_

Jack wished he could sketch her in this moment. He wished he had the pastel and oil paint kits that Elizabeth had given him for Christmas last year so he could paint this moment to hold and to keep long after his hair turned gray and his eyesight dimmed. The pale blue of her dress made her sapphire eyes illuminate and sparkle in the warm candlelight. She walked with a steady, confident step that was as graceful as it was determined. Jack couldn't help but smile a wide, gaping grin. _Dear God, how could one woman be so beautiful?_

He couldn't stop smiling, could scarcely breath, ever fearful that this was all a dream, that he would wake up in a jailhouse in Cape Fullerton, surrounded by fellow mounties and criminals sitting in jail cells, completely surrounded and completely alone. And then Elizabeth smiled that mischievous, brilliant, captivating smirk that made his heart skip a beat.  _Dear God, how could one woman be so perfectly made for him?_

And Abigail, sweet, wonderful, Abigail, stood by Elizabeth's side, walking her down the like she was born to. As if this was always how Jack and Elizabeth's love story was meant to play out.

Elizabeth sidled up to Jack as he offered her his arm, handing her bouquet of wildflowers and baby's breath to Rosemary. The school teacher and the mountie turned to face the pastor, every so often glancing over at one another with a soft, joyful grin.

Frank took a deep breath and smiled, chuckling softly at the sight before him. He caught Abigail's tear eyes, a moment passing between them, before he began the ceremony.

"This day is not about the words spoken or the rings exchanged, nor is it about grand pronouncements and recessional marches. This day is about love. If love is not all, then it is nothing. But we do not believe that. We believe its opposite that if love is all, then it is everything And this truth will be the basis of every aspect of your relationship. All you have to do is simply love one another and that love shows through in everything you do for one another, how you treat each other, in good times and bad."

Rosemary began to cry and Abigail wrapped her arm around her. Frank chanced a look at the two of them and was rewarded with a smile from Abigail, who was so obviously trying desperately not to cry.

Lee couldn't hide his grin at the sight of his dramatic wife. He couldn't hide his grin at the sight of his best friend marrying the love of his life. He couldn't hide his grin at the thought that he had been given the honor to stand beside Jack as his best man. Rosemary looked over at her husband, a teary smile dancing on her lips as she mouthed "I love you," to him. Lee smiled and did the same.

"Love isn't just a word; it's an action. Love isn't something you say, it's something you do. Love is genuine, honest, and open, compassionate and kind, passionate and blind, love doesn't know space or time. 'Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.'"

Jack and Elizabeth turned to one another as Jack placed his free hand atop of hers that rested in the crook of his arm. As Frank continued to read from Jack's favorite passage, all the mountie could do was hold back the sudden urge to kiss Elizabeth and wipe the silent tears from her face. As Jack looked at her and swept a calloused thumb to catch a falling tear from her cheek, all Elizabeth could do was hold back the desperate urge to kiss him breathless.

"Not only do Jack and Elizabeth love one another romantically – and they do, you can see it in every look, every touch, every moment they are together – they also love one another as friends. They are best friends, constantly taunting and teasing and very plainly enjoying the simple pleasure of having fun together. That love and enjoyment of each other as best friends will sustain them through this marriage."

Frank looked out at the five people in front of him. Elizabeth, Abigail, and Rosemary were in tears and it amused Frank to see that even Lee was crying. Jack, stoic as ever, had not let a tear fall, though his eyes were glassy and it was plain to see how desperately he was fighting the urge to cry.

"In addition, the love collectively in this room, from friends, from family, will help sustain and support the promises they make today. All of us here will help solidify this bond, as these two are joined as husband and wife. This new journey will be at times richly rewarding and extremely difficult, but, most importantly, it will be a journey you take together."

Frank nodded to Jack and Elizabeth as he motioned for them to turn and face each other. Jack grasped Elizabeth's hands and held them between what little space lay between the Mountie and the teacher.

"Jack," Frank began, "please repeat after me: In the name of God, I, John Andrew Thornton,"

Jack's smile was brilliant and bright as he echoed Frank's words, a single tear spilling down his cheek as he took in Elizabeth's face, "In the name of God, I, John Andrew Thornton,"

"Take you, Elizabeth Grace Thatcher, to be my wife,"

"Take you, Elizabeth Grace Thatcher, to be my  _wife_ ," Jack whispered the words like a prayer. Elizabeth smiled at the word,  _wife_.

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,"

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer," Jack lifted his hand to wipe yet another tear from Elizabeth's face. She kissed his palm as it ghosted over her cheek.

"In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow."

Jack held Elizabeth's gaze, "In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow."

Frank smiled. "Elizabeth, repeat after me: In the name of God, I, Elizabeth Grace Thatcher,"

She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't see anything but the handsome, strong, gentle Mountie in front of her, "In the name of God, I, Elizabeth Grace Thatcher,"

"Take you, John Andrew Thornton, to be my husband,"

"Take you, John Andrew Thornton, to be my  _husband,_ " Elizabeth's voice caught on the word,  _husband_ , and Jack began to cry.

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,"

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer," Elizabeth lifted her hand to wipe yet another tear from Jack's face. He kissed her palm as it ghosted over his smooth, shaved cheek.

"In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow."

Elizabeth held Jack's gaze, "In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until we are parted by death. This is my solemn vow."

Rosemary let out what could only be called a wail, tears falling down her face. Lee, Abigail, Jack, Elizabeth, and Frank looked around at one another and laughed. Rosemary pouted at the laughter, which only caused more. Abigail gave her a small hug and nodded at Frank to continue. Frank looked to Lee, "May I have the rings?"

Elizabeth's brow furrowed in confusion. They didn't have rings. The time it would have taken to order and deliver them would have been several months. She looked up at Jack for an answer, only to find him smiling at her so tenderly that it nearly broke her heart. "They were my mom and dad's rings," he said softly, meant only for her to hear, "at least until we can get our own."

Elizabeth began to cry again at the wonder of how God could create such a man. She shook her head, "These will be our own rings."

Jack smiled at her like she had given him the world. He simply nodded and bowed his head, like a shy school boy caught leaving an apple on his teacher's desk.

"Jack," Frank said, capturing Jack's attention once more, "as you place this ring on Elizabeth's finger, please repeat after me: I offer my vow to you in the form of this ring,"

Jack smiled at Elizabeth as he slipped the simple white gold band onto Elizabeth's slim finger. It fit perfectly, as if it was always meant for her hand, "I offer my vow to you in the form of this ring."

"So that my word and my love, will always be with you. Close to your heart."

"So that my word and my love, will  _always_  be with you. Close to your heart," Jack placed a kiss over the ring as he finished.

"Elizabeth," Frank said, a teasing, playful tone in his words, "as you place this ring on Jack's finger, please repeat after me: I offer my vow to you in the form of this ring,"

Elizabeth smiled at Jack as she slipped the simple white gold onto Jack's sturdy finger. It fit perfectly, as if it was always meant for his hand, "I offer my vow to you in the form of this ring."

"So that my word and my love, will always be with you. Close to your heart."

"So that my word and my love, will  _always_  be with you. Close to your heart," Elizabeth placed a kiss over the ring as she finished.

Frank chuckled to himself as he felt a lone tear slide down his scruffy cheek. His words caught in his throat at the sight of unadulterated love in front of him. It was a rare thing, he knew, the kind of love that Jack and Elizabeth had. It was always a miracle to witness two people come together like the Mountie and the teacher in front of him.

"By the power vested in me by our Lord, Jesus Christ, and the Province of Alberta, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jack, kiss your bride."

Jack didn't need to be told twice. He pulled Elizabeth in close, wrapping his arms around her trim waist as she wrapped hers around his broad shoulders. He pressed his lips to hers, melding together in a slow, burning kiss. Elizabeth's fingers moved into his hair as his tongue brushed up against her lips.

They can hear hoots and hollers and clapping and laughter in the distance. Jack and Elizabeth part all too soon, though they make no move to step away from one another. Elizabeth laughs and pulls Jack in for another kiss. He bends to her willingly.

_Finally._

* * *

The town throws the newlyweds an amazing reception. Champagne left over from Christmas and New Years flow around the saloon. Men are laughing, drinking whisky and slapping each other on the back. A buffet dinner prepared by Carson is dished onto plates while the women gab about how beautiful a bride Elizabeth made. Jack and Elizabeth are dancing to the music that Bill Avery is playing on the piano, oblivious to everything, save one another's presence. Lee and Rosemary are laughing at something funny Cody says. Children run about the room as Frank chases them. And Abigail stands back and takes it all in.

In times like these, she can't help but thing about Noah and Peter. Noah loved a good wedding reception. And Peter… Peter who was married but was never given the chance to be a husband. Abigail glanced over at Clara and Jesse, swaying sweetly to the romantic tune that Bill had begun to play. She smiles at the couple.

Abigail looked back to Jack and Elizabeth. Ned Yost had cut in and pulled Elizabeth into a dance. Jack had a new dance partner as well, in little Opal. Abigail smiled as he twirled the little girl around and let her stand on top of his polished boots while they danced. She notices Elizabeth staring at them. Love radiated off her, the future danced in her eyes and passion…. Jack glances up at her, his gaze mirroring her own. Abigail chuckles at the sight, remembering what it was like to be young, in love, and newly married.

She holds Jack and Elizabeth in a special place in her heart. She had been so lost and alone after the mining disaster. She had wanted to die along with her husband and son. But a young, naive, brave, beautiful school teacher from Hamilton stormed into her life and made her laugh and given her another chance to be a mother. And just when Abigail thought she couldn't be more blessed with a daughter of sorts, God saw fit to send a headstrong, kind, and brave Mountie riding in on horse like some sort of knight in shining armor to give her another son. She loves them, maybe more than she should, but Abigail can't find it in her hear to care. She loves them. Plain and simple.

Jack and Elizabeth will leave soon, back to the row house to begin their life together. And Abigail will be there for them for all of it. The fights, the laughter, the tears, the victories and defeats. Because that's what a mother does….

* * *

Jack and Elizabeth held tight to one another as the walked back to the row house in the cool air. Spring was ending and the chilly fall weather was beginning to set in. But Elizabeth couldn't feel it. She was warm from champagne and her belly was full of delicious food. And her husband was holding her handle firmly in his. She looked up at Jack Thornton, his cheeks pink from the chilly breeze and his stubble beginning to show. She doesn't even fight the urge to kiss his cheek.

Jack chuckles as he feels Elizabeth's lips on his cheek. He looks over at his wife, his wife, as she pulls away. They've reached the row house steps and Elizabeth moves to stand up on the first one. He places his hands on her hips will hers find a home cupping his face.

He can tell she is nervous. She can tell he is too. She can tell he is excited. He can tell she is ready.

"Would you like to stay the night, Corporal Thornton?"

"I would like to stay forever, Mrs. Thornton."

Elizabeth smile and kissed her husband soundly. Jack's arms wrapped around her of their own volition. Elizabeth's fingers carded through his hair instinctively. He laughs and she giggles. She breaks away and grabs his strong, calloused hand. He follows as she pulls him into the house. Jack closes the door behind them….


	4. I Would Tell You That I Love You

When Jack awoke, the first thing that struck him was how very warm he was, and how his breath felt slightly stifled, hitting his upper lip rather than escaping into the ether, as though there were something just in front of his face. His body was tired. His muscles ached in the best way possible. His hazy mind made it difficult to be certain, but he was fairly confident that his whole front was much warmer than his back. He frowned and shuffled a little, starting in surprise when he felt the warm friction of bare skin against his naked chest. His bright hazel eyes shot open and he was blessed with the most beautiful sight he could ever have imagined.

Elizabeth lay next to him, her back curled into his front, sleeping deeply, like a cat curled in front of a fire. He remained still for a moment, grinning when he felt the light tickle of her hair against his face, listening intently to the beautiful sound of her gentle breathing. Jack lifted himself up on an elbow to fully inspect his gorgeous wife. Her russet hair was mussed, Jack noticed with no small hint of self-satisfaction. There were small red spots on her neck and chest, a clear sign of his stubbly face against her creamy skin. Smiling a little wider, Jack let his mind wander.

Abigail had told him often that Elizabeth was not a morning person. Maybe he would always wake before her, and be able to enjoy this little time to simply bask in the beauty of her. His smile then wavered as he remembered that he wouldn't have all that much opportunity to find out. Immediately, he banished the thought from his mind. Not today… they had time, yet.

His gaze reached her face again, utterly perfect in sleep, and he leaned forward and kissed her cheek softly. His kisses moved along her shoulders as he brushed her hair slowly out of the way, placing an extra kiss on a freckle that he thought irresistible. Her skin was warm under his hand. Jack didn't remember when the gentle caress of his thumb turn into his whole hand pressed flat rubbing smoothly over her waist. As he continued to nestle his face against her shoulder, he slowly became aware of it, of the light friction, the way her skin slipped under his palm.

He was still in awe of everything that had transpired between them. She had given herself to him, in the most precious, intimate way… and he gave himself to her. She had loved him with her body and soul. And Jack, for perhaps the first time in his life, truly understood what it meant to worship someone. He kept on wondering when he would wake up, knowing that this couldn't be real, and yet… He knew that it was. Elizabeth, his own daring, spitfire of a school teacher, the darling, daring woman lying soft and warm and breathing in his arms was his… and by some miracle, he was hers.

Softly, his hand drifted up, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast, then danced over her hip. His fingers trailed smooth curve and back, then lower to her thighs, rubbing over them, painting and tracing indiscernible patterns across the skin he was determined to know as intimately as his own. A little sigh of pleasure escaped him, tickling the back of her neck and she shivered.

He watched in awe as Elizabeth woke up. Her deep blue eyes started as narrow slits, seemingly angry at the sun for interrupting her heavy, pleasant sleep. Jack watched as confusion set into the delicate features of her face. He watched as she remembered the events of yesterday, of who she was with and quickly, so quickly he was surprised she didn't hurt her neck, Elizabeth whipped her head around to look over her shoulder. Jack couldn't contain his laughter at the sight, nor could he stop himself from kissing the confused pout off her lips.

Instantly, Elizabeth was kissing him back. Utterly unable to resist him, even if she was still half asleep, she sucked gently on his lower lip with a soft hum of appreciation, marveling at how soft and sweet his mouth was. It didn't take long, under his tender attentions, for Elizabeth to stir into full consciousness. Jack slowly realized it when he felt her lips part under his, her tongue slipping into his mouth. Without a sound, one of her dainty hands lifted to grasp his cheek, as his arm wrapped warmly over her back and around her waist, pulling her closer.

Too soon for her liking, Jack pulled away. He took Elizabeth's face. Her lips were swollen and desire pooled in her eyes.  _Dear God, she would be the death of him. What a way to go._

"Good morning, Mrs. Thornton. Did you sleep well?"

Whatever response he was expecting, whatever he thought she would say, could not have prepared him as she sat up, exposing her bare chest to him. Elizabeth moved and sat in his lap, the thin cotton covers pooling around their waists. She was now looking down at him, her soft, velvety hands on either side of his scruffy cheeks.

"Actually, Mr. Thornton," the way she said his name was deliciously wicked and Jack grinned at her impish smile, "I didn't sleep much last night."

Jack feigned ignorance, "Oh really?

"You're very clever, Mr. Thornton," Elizabeth's smiled widened as she began to pepper his face and shoulder with soft, sensual kisses, "I'm sure you'll think of some way to make it up to me."

"Dear God, Elizabeth," Jack exhaled as Elizabeth began to nibble on his ear, "You'll be the death of me."

He pulled her back up to meet his lips, kissing her as though his life depended on it. She shuffled to lay down as he leaned over her. Elizabeth looked up at her husband. Jack's eyes were clouded with desire, but there, underneath it all was an all-consuming love that took her breath away. His gaze mirrored her own.

Elizabeth smiled brightly, laughing as she kissed Jack again, "Dear God, how did I ever get lucky enough to find you?"

Jack grinned, his handsome dimples on full display, "I wouldn't question it, Elizabeth. Just go with it."

Suddenly, their lips clashed. Their bodies moved together, flush against one another and joined in intimacy beginning their first day as husband and wife as they meant to go on, or so the saying goes. Between them, there hovered an unspoken promise, a declaration of love and loyalty that would never be broken. Their hips rose and fell instinctively in time, every slow, deep thrust magnified by an all-consuming desperation; a newfound release to a long-repressed passion, a burning need to treasure and keep the sensation of every kiss, every gasp, every touch.

Elizabeth clung to Jack, her lips and hands burning across his skin. Her nails dug into his shoulders. Jack shuddered under her touch, "Elizabeth," he said her name like a prayer and Elizabeth decided that it was the most glorious sound she had ever heard. She decided that she would do everything she could to make him do it again. Soft gasps and sighs, the rustle of the sheets around them and the low, rhythmic creak of the sleigh bed as they surrendered their bodies and hearts, broke through the misty morning.

Too soon, in a tender, fierce, loving clash of hips, skin, arms, lips, and sweat… Elizabeth gasped and held tight to Jack's shoulders. A moan attempted to escape her swollen lips. Jack buried his face in her neck, his breath hot and heavy by her ear. "I love you," she whispered over and over again as she held tight to him. Jack clung, shaking, as Elizabeth's fingernails scratched in his scalp, mussing his sweaty hair.

"I love you," he moaned into the delicate shell of her ear. Elizabeth shivered again at the feeling of it and the unmistakable sound of pleasure his words were drenched in. They held tight to one another. Jack eventually lifted up, chancing a glimpse of Elizabeth, rewarded to find a languid, heady smile dancing on her lips.

"How was that," Jack asked, teasing, breathless.

Elizabeth's smile deepened and her eyes closed, "I think you're on the right track."

Jack chuckled, deep in his belly and buried his face back into her flushed neck. Elizabeth giggled and wrapped her slender arms around his broad, strong shoulders….

* * *

It was nearly three in the afternoon when they finally dressed. Jack, having moved his clothes and limited possessions into the row house a few days ago, was wearing one of Elizabeth's favorite shirts. Maybe it was the way it fit him so well, maybe it was the fact that he always left two of the three button open, so she could see his sun-kissed skin. Maybe it was the fact that the color made the gray in his hazel eyes pop. Maybe it was the fact that it was what he was wearing during the town's baseball game, watching him work with her students and knowing that he would be a wonderful father one day. Whatever the reason, she loved that shirt, she loved him, and Elizabeth didn't even try to stop the grin forming on her lips from blossoming.

The sun was out and the gentle breeze made for perfect picnic weather. Elizabeth gathered some cold chicken, cheese, and grapes from the icebox, the last few pieces of Abigail's famous apple pie, and a bottle of strawberry cordial that Elizabeth had been saving. She looked over into the living room as Jack pulled a blanket of the Chesterfield sofa and rummaged through the coat closet for the picnic basket. Jack looked up as if he knew she was watching him and gave her a dimpled grin.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The couple jumped at the sound of an angry knock on the door. Jack frowned as Elizabeth walked over to open the door.

William Thatcher stood in front of them, red-faced, breathing deeply, fiercely. He reminded Jack of a bull that his uncle used to have on his ranch. It was wild, untamed and scared the hell out of Jack as a boy. He suddenly felt like that twelve-year-old boy again, though he would never admit it to William Thatcher.

"Elizabeth, what is this nonsense about you and this… this Mountie getting married yesterday?"

Jack felt his throat swell up. Bile collected in his throat. He chanced a look at Elizabeth who seemed eerily calm. Her demeanor only caused him to become more anxious. He wasn't ashamed of what they had done. He could never regret marrying Elizabeth, but he had at least hoped that their families would hear it from them and not some passerby on the street.

Elizabeth broke the silence between the three of them, "It's not nonsense, Father. Jack and I were married yesterday afternoon."

"WHAT?"

Jack could have sworn that the glass in the window panes of the house shook a little. He may have even heard Lee and Rosemary shriek from next door.

"Mr. Thatcher," Jack began, the confidence in his voice betraying the terror that had settled into his bones, "I understand that you are upset, but, sir, there is no need to…"

"NO NEED! SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"FATHER!"

William ignored his daughter, his gaze burrowing into the man in front of him who stood so calmly and proudly that it made want to vomit, "I am going to end this. This marriage cannot stand. I will not let it stand."

"It can and you will," Jack narrowed his gaze and gritted his teeth, "I understand that you're upset. You have every right to be upset but I do not deserve to be spoken to this way."

"Like hell you don't," William growled, "I told you every damn time you wrote for my blessing that I wouldn't give it. So you just marry my daughter behind my back? Like some thief sneaking around in the middle of the night."

"That is enough!" Elizabeth shouted, drawing her father's and husband's attention, "You will never speak to Jack that way again."

"Elizabeth," William began but Elizabeth refused to let him finish.

"Jack has been assigned to a post in the Northern Territories. I wanted us to be married before he left. He is the one who suggested we wait for you to come around to the idea."

"And why on Earth didn't you wait?"

"Because I knew that I had a better chance of seeing a pig fly."

William's color was beginning to concern Jack. He was about to suggest for the man to take a breath when he turned back to face Jack, fury in his eyes. Instead, he braced himself for another fight.

William pointed an accusing finger at him, "When I am done with you, Thornton…"

"Father, come with me."

Jack and William turned to see Elizabeth putting on her cream fall coat.

"Elizabeth I am in the middle of a conversation with this…  _this man,_ " William nearly snarled on his last words.

Elizabeth didn't miss a beat. She even seemed annoyed with her father's ill-placed tenacity, "That man is my husband, Father. And before you talk with him, you're coming with me. There are some things I need to show you. You will listen to what I have to say before I let you talk to my husband."

Jack would smile at her brash, unforgiving statement if he knew that it wouldn't cause the vein bulging about from William's beet red face. But there were no guarantees, so Jack kept his mouth shut. If Elizabeth was concerned for her father or for Jack, she didn't show it. She walked over to Jack and kissed him square on the mouth, a shock through his system. He didn't dare reciprocate in front of William Thatcher, who looked like his head may blow off like steam from a kettle.

"We'll be back in a little, Jack. If you could, please put our picnic back in the icebox. I love you."

Jack nodded, unable to say anything except, "I… I love you too."

Elizabeth smiled at that and rewarded him with a small peck on the cheek, 'Come on, Father. We have things to do."

William turned to go with Elizabeth, his glaring eyes never leaving Jack. Jack, ever the cheeky one, waved to William as Elizabeth closed the door behind them.

* * *

William Thatcher walked into the church, hot on his daughter's heels, his eyes trained on the floor. The sooner she spoke her peace, the sooner he could convince her to end this charade before it went too far. It would be hard, he knew, for her to leave the small town and the students. But there would be other students, other jobs, and a better-positioned suitor for her to marry. He had good lawyers, they could have this marriage annulled and put to bed before next week's end.  _Damn, these floors are beautiful_ , William thought. And then he looked up.

Beautiful, knotty pine and deep brown oak buttresses graced the ceiling. Bright, warm light seeped through the windows that adorned the walls of the open, airy schoolhouse. He walked down the single-aisle, following Elizabeth to a large, simply, yet elegantly carved desk. He marveled at the church pews that obviously could convert into desks; a surprising feet of multipurpose engineering that left William Thatcher speechless.

"Jack built this place," William turned his gaze from the pews to look at his middle daughter. She was looking around the schoolhouse church as well, a daydreamy look on her face, "We were married right where you're standing."

William glanced down at his feet before looking back up at his daughter.

"He received a substantial reward for catching a gang," Elizabeth took a breath as William shoved his hands in his pants pockets, "And instead of keeping it, he bought the supplies and manpower to build this beautiful church.

Elizabeth looked now to her father and though William would never admit it out loud, he suddenly felt as if he was ten years old and being told to put the dunce's cap on for spelling his 'congruent' incorrectly. He looked to Elizabeth, his daughter, standing in front of him with a dogged determination that reminded him so much of her as a child. He suddenly remembered her at age seven, refusing to sit in the parlor and learn to crochet with Viola before running off with Pride & Prejudice to read to Julie in the gardens, surrounded by red roses and yellow daisies. But she wasn't his little girl anymore. There was a fierceness in her gaze, a commanding presence that forced him to realize that this schoolhouse was her domain.  _This must be what her students feel like._ William decided to sit down.

"Jack built this place, not just for me, but for the entire town. He wanted to give the children a place to call there own, where they could hang up art pieces and science projects up instead of being thrown away the next day by someone in the saloon who wanted to play darts. He wanted the town to have a place to come together for church, a quiet, tranquil place to pray and sing."

William swallowed. Something dropped in his stomach, a sense of dread and… dear God, was this remorse? Regret? And suddenly, his heart broke. He had a sneaking suspicion that he had been wrong. That his wife had been right in telling him to accept Jack into the family, happily, instead of writing the hateful letter he had actually sent.

Elizabeth smiled as she began to fiddle with her rings, lost in a memory of standing on a hill next to Jack as he showed her the white schoolhouse and church. Her voice lost some of its bite and turned melodic and wistful, "He built this place so I could have some place, all my own, to teach. In the winter, I never have to ask anyone to chop wood for the stove. Jack's already done it. Before I even know that a window needs to be sanded or a door hinge needs to be oiled, Jack has done it."

Tears began to form in his daughter's eyes, and while he so desperately wanted to hug her, to beg for forgiveness and to grant it, William couldn't make himself move. Pride held him there like a vice grip. Elizabeth didn't seem to notice. She was busy trying to convince her father how wrong he was about everything. He didn't dare admit that it was working.

"He's a Mountie, yes, Father. But do you even know what that means? It mean's he's brave and strong, and upright, and selfless. But that's just one part of him. He's an artist, an architect, and a handyman. He's smart and funny and kind. And he makes me better, Father. He makes me selfless and brave and compassionate and he reminds me of what really matters. And if all that wasn't enough, he's building us a house, a home, to grow in and raise a family. What more could the man do to be good enough for me?"

William lowered his head, shameful and contemplating asking for forgiveness, though his pride refused to leave him, "Elizabeth, I know that Jack is a good man, it's not that."

Elizabeth threw her hands up in the air, her voice rising angrily, "Then what is it! His position? His lack of 'societal graces,' whatever that means. Dammit, Father, surely you're not so stuck in the past to think that something as indifferent as social class could mean anything when it comes to a happy, successful marriage."

William's ears turned red and a vein popped out from the center of his forehead. He stood up, pointing a lone finger dangerously at her, "You have no right to talk to me this way! I am your father!"

"Then swallow your pride and start acting like it!" Elizabeth was shouting now, hands flailing. William had never seen her this angry. He had never been this angry at her.

"Pride! You want to talk to me about pride! Talk to your…  _husband_! I gave him a chance, Elizabeth, I offered him the means to better himself. I…"

"I should have kissed him senseless for turning down your job offer."

William shut up, his mouth hanging open like a dead fish, "Elizabeth," his voice barely a whisper. She said it so calmly, so clearly. It was unnerving.

"I should have told him how proud I was of him for standing up to you and refusing to be anything other than the man he was. It's something that I will regret for the rest of my life, making him feel less than wonderful and adored."

William lowered himself back down, flabbergasted. Why was this so difficult? He knew she was right. He knew that Jack was a good man who would take care of her and love her. He knew that the young man would be a good husband and a good father. He just… this was Elizabeth. He loved all of his children, and truthfully, he loved them equally. William knew, as every parent that loved their child did, that a child was born with a certain kind of magic. Wonder and the ability to believe in things unseen were gifts.

Viola, from the moment she was born, had been alert, taking in her surroundings and studying them with a captivated grace. She was smart, clever and practical. She had been vibrant and funny and adventurous. But William, like so many parents, had failed his eldest daughter. He had tampered her spirit, taught it, spanked it, and churched it out of her. His eldest daughter was a shell of the woman she could have been. And William and his wife, Grace, had been the reason. They had let the world shape her and beat her down until all Viola knew was to protect herself from everything.

Julie was born so quickly after Elizabeth, and required so much thought and time that William felt as if he had missed raising Elizabeth. With Julie, William saw a chance to right all the sins he and Grace had committed in regards to raising Viola. They bent over backward, too much, in fact, to ensure Julie was able to be a child, that she had never really grown into and strong, capable woman.

But Elizabeth, dear Elizabeth. She was so different. Much like Viola, Elizabeth was born clever, alert, and observant. She could be loud and boisterous like Julie. She could be cruel like Viola, if he was honest, but never intentionally. And if she had been, Elizabeth would cry and beg for forgiveness, knowing that she had wronged someone. William, often at the end of a hard day, would walk into the parlor and pour himself a whiskey and ungraciously throw himself down onto a sofa. He would hear a giggle and see Elizabeth, nose tuck in a book, laughing at antiques of Joe March or huffing at the lunacy of Heathcliff and Catherine. He would catch her crying as she finished  _Pride & Prejudice_, yet again.

Elizabeth understood, more than either of her parents, what it meant to be a child and what it meant to grow into an adult. William wasn't surprised when Elizabeth announced that she wanted to attend teacher's college. He wasn't surprised when she said that she would be moving out west to teach in a small village. A part of her was always restless in Hamilton. The shine of the city had worn off on her.

William had never been prouder or more worried than when she declared that she would go out west and teach. He had never been prouder and more worried than when she brought a young mountie home with her. William knew, long before she did, and maybe before Jack did, that those two had a connection, a thread that pulled them together. William knew, that when Jack turned his job over down that Elizabeth was already lost to him. It was the day that all fathers pray for and dread. His daughter had found a good man that he respected, even liked, though he had refused to admit it up to this point, and William knew that he would have to let her go.

William lifted his head, tears welling in his eyes, catching Elizabeth off guard. She had never intended her father pain. She loved him dearly. But she couldn't, she wouldn't let him drag Jack through the mud, not anymore. Not ever again. His voice caught in his throat and Elizabeth flinched, "You're right, Elizabeth."

Her eyes shot open and her face turned to shock so quickly that William almost laughed. Almost.

"I have been horrible, prideful ass. I have hurt you. I have no excuse."

"Fa-Father,"

William held up his hand, stopping her from finishing. He stood up, finally, his body heavier and his bones weaker than he remembered them being. He walked over to his daughter, his beautiful daughter, and took her hands. Elizabeth looked down at them as her father fiddled with the simple, beautiful engagement ring. He admired the single sapphire that looked so much like Elizabeth's eyes.  _Dammit, Jack, you couldn't have picked a more perfect ring._

"I am sorry," the words stuck on the back of his throat, "I'm so sorry I wasn't here to walk you down the aisle. I hope someone was."

Elizabeth was crying now, "Abigail did."

William smiled at that, "I always liked that woman. No nonsense about her."

Elizabeth laughed an ugly sob at that before wrapping her arms around her father. William cried with her, holding his daughter close, feeling closer to her than he had in years….

* * *

Jack sat in impatiently in the armchair sitting to the left of the sofa. Paper was scattered around him, covered with incoherent sketches of furniture, ideas for the house, of some children that he saw running in the field in front of the row house. They had been gone for over an hour now and his mind was beginning to go to dangerous places.  _What if William had convinced her to leave him? What if he kidnapped her?_   _Dear God, Jack, be sensible._

He threw his sketch pad and pencil onto the coffee table, startling Rip in the process. The floppy-eared dog slowly raised his head, as if telling Jack off for getting so upset as to interrupt his nap.

"Oh, shut up," Jack murmured to the hound.

He looked around the house for anything to do. He had already chopped some firewood. He had already fixed the window that was beginning to stick by the back of the house. He had even managed to reset the oven door that was beginning to fall out of place on its hinges. The walls were beginning to close in on Jack and he couldn't take it anymore. Without a second thought, he threw on his navy, canvas jacket and flew out the door.

As he flew down the stoop of the row house, Jack looked up to find Elizabeth and her father walking down the path. They were both talking as Elizabeth had her arm tucked into the crook of William's elbow. For an instant, Jack's fears seemed to well up inside him, but then Elizabeth saw him and she smiled so brilliantly that Jack couldn't stop a beautiful, dimpled grin from forming on his face. Elizabeth let go of her father's arm and began to run towards Jack. He caught her in his arms, her cold hands on his face and she pulled him down for a kiss. She was smiling and kissing him and William wasn't saying anything.  _What in the hell is going on?_

Elizabeth ended the kiss but happily remained in her husband's arms. Jack smiled down at her, but it faded quickly when he saw that her eyes were puffy.

"You've been crying," Jack whispered, concern weaved into every syllable, "are you okay?"

Elizabeth's smile grew wider at the care and love etched on Jack's beautiful, handsome face. He still hadn't gotten around to shaving, though she kind of liked the unkempt look on him. It made him even more attractive if that was possible.

"Everything is wonderful," Elizabeth breathed easily, "Father and I ran into Abigail on our way through town and she wants to cook all of us a nice dinner."

Jack nodded, still unsure of what to make of William's presence. Elizabeth found it oddly amusing. She had never seen Jack this flustered or confused. She kissed him again just because she could.

But first," William cleared his throat, forcing both Jack and Elizabeth to turn their attention to her father, "Elizabeth was telling me that you have some plans for a house. I would love to see them."

Jack was taken aback, eyes narrowed in confusion and uncertainty. He glanced back down at Elizabeth, her smile mesmerizing. She simply nodded, "It's okay. I'm going to go on ahead and see if Abigail needs any help."

Jack couldn't contain the snort of a laugh that escaped his lips. Elizabeth pouted and William joined in, "Somehow, Elizabeth," William began, his voice teasing and light, "I don't think she will. But I would love some time alone with my son-in-law."

Elizabeth smiled and gave a quick nod to her father. She looked back up at Jack, who still seemed glued to his spot and his crinkled brow a permanent look plastered on his face. She kissed his cheek softly, "It's okay, Jack." He smiled, still unsure, but trust burned in his eyes. He let her go and motioned for William to follow him inside the house.

* * *

Jack laid out his hand-sketched floor plans and furniture designs on the dining table. He went about explaining the designs for the kitchen. William chuckled again at the thought of Elizabeth cooking. "Is she a good cook?"

Jack smiled, shyly, and for a moment William could see what his grandson would look like, should he be blessed with any. A small boy with dimples and kind, twinkling eyes, "She's getting better every day."

William laughed at Jack's diplomatic answer, "Thank God for Abigail, I suppose."

Jack chuckled, loosening up a bit, "Thank God for Abigail."

The building plans were exceptional, William found. Everything was painstakingly thought out. The number of windows, which way they would face, the number of bedrooms, all of it was carefully planned.

"Now what is this room?" William pointed

Jack cleared his throat, "Well, that's a library and office."

William's eyes widened. Jack smiled and began to explain, "I take it you know that Elizabeth has an abiding affection for books. It's a love she has instilled in her students as well," he added off-handedly, "And you have obviously noticed that she doesn't exactly have enough room in this house to store every book she actually owns."

William nodded, "She did have to send most of her books back to the house."

"And I know that it killed her to do so," Jack looked back down to the plans and William followed his gaze, "This will be built as a library. It will also have a desk for her to write or grade papers and write lesson plans, so she's not at the school late at night, working. And there will be large windows that overlook our land, so I can paint or sketch while she works. And there will be plenty of room for the gramophone so she can listen to music while she works."

William could picture it so clearly. A soft waltz playing distantly in the background while Elizabeth typed or checked answers from geography tests. Jack sketching silently, winding down from a long day of rounds. Their basset hound, Rip, he thought he heard Elizabeth call the dog, lounging by Jack's feet. Maybe a baby sleeping soundly in the next room.

"I wanted to have it built before we were married but," Jack stopped, obviously uncomfortable and a little ashamed, "Well, my timetable was jumbled up a bit," he finished gracefully."

William couldn't help but feel incredibly sad for Jack and Elizabeth. They deserved a home that was all theirs. Jack deserved to give that to Elizabeth. Like a bolt of lightning, William imagined an amazing idea.

"Jack," William started, "What if I hired people to build the house for you? That way it could still be completed while you're in the Northern Territories posting?"

Jack swallowed so hard that William nearly asked him if he was okay. He went pale, "William, I… I know you don't think I can provide adequately for Elizabeth. But I can, part of building this house was to show you that, so maybe one day you could… accept me, for Elizabeth's sake. But I'm sorry, I can't let you do that."

"Jack," William's voice was soft, fatherly, loving. Jack couldn't remember the last time a father had spoken to him like this. It brought tears to his eyes, "I don't want to do this to prove anything. I want to do this because you'll be off fighting to keep this country safe. You'll be off doing your job to protect my daughter. You won't be able to build this, beautiful house that you've dreamed up. And it deserves to be built, son."

Jack swallowed, unsure of what to say. William smiled and placed his hand gently on Jack's shoulder.

"I don't… I'm grateful for the offer, William, truly. But… I don't,"

"Jack," William stopped Jack softly, not a trace of anger or bitterness in his voice, "let me start the way I should have the moment I stepped foot back into your home. I need you to know, son, that this was never about you."

Jack has never spent more time in his life being confused than he has today. _What the hell is going on?_

Deep laugh lines and crow's feet seemed to appear on William's face. He looked so much older than he was and Jack couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. Pain and regret were uncomfortably obvious and Jack had a sudden urge to help him, though he didn't quite know how.

"I hope, that when you have children, if you have a daughter, that you'll handle all of this much better than I have. Jack," William placed a hand on Jack's sturdy shoulder, "I've made so many mistakes in my life, especially with my daughters. But Elizabeth, she somehow became an amazing woman despite all my shortcomings. I've done everything I can to protect her

"You're everything I have ever wanted for my daughter. You're loyal and kind and brave. You're proud but not arrogant. You're smart and you love my daughter with everything in you. I could see that from the moment I met you. And it scared me. It scared me to know that she didn't need me anymore. It scared me to know that she wouldn't ever come back to Hamilton to live because you are too good a Mountie to be posted in some quiet port city. It scared me to know that the one thing I was truly good at, being her father, was over."

"You'll always be her father, William," Jack tried to assuage his pain and William couldn't believe just how kind and compassionate his daughter's husband was.

"Yes, but you're her husband. She will rely on you. And that's as it should be. She deserves a man who can protect her and walk with her and grow with her. She deserves a man who tells her father to shove his job offer up his ass."

Jack chuckled at that and William joined in. He looked up at the older man, a warm smile adorning his face. It wasn't the look Jack was used to receiving from the man, but he realized that it seemed a natural expression on William's face. Like it was always meant to be there but just hadn't gotten around to showing up until now. Hope bubbled in his chest and Jack felt as though he might cry.

"Let me do this for you, Jack," William nearly whispered, "Let me begin to make amends for the horrible things I have said and done. Let me do something right for you."

A gentle, easy silence fell between the two men.

"How can I say no to that?" Jack smiled shyly.

William grinned from ear to ear, "You can't."

William pulled Jack into a tight hug that reminded Jack so much of his father that it almost hurt to breathe. Tears welled in his eyes and William, whether he could sense it or not, hugged Jack just a little bit tighter before pulling away. If Jack shed a tear, neither man said anything. William just simply smacked his new son on the back and ushered him out the door to meet Elizabeth and Abigail at the cafe for dinner….


	5. Don't Cry, Hold Your Head Up High

In Hamilton, when she was a girl, the rain was considered by all to be a nuisance. It would flood the streets and leave puddles for the coaches and horses to splash in, drenching any unfortunate soul that dared to walk the streets. It kept her and her sisters inside, which always lead to an argument between Viola and Julie and Elizabeth's inability to find a quiet place to read a book. The rain was a gray, weary torment; it was a jailer to be feared and a thief that took without a passing thought to those it might hurt.

The rain was different in Hope Valley.

Farmers prayed for it. Children danced in it, even when their parents yelled for them to come inside before they caught their deaths. It was a common symphony in Hope Valley; the beating of raindrops on tin roofs and tempered glass windows and the screams and giggles and splashes of children. Elizabeth would often smile sadly at her students and their siblings, longing for her childhood and wishing she had known the joy of splashing in puddles with her sisters. She could almost see Julie dancing a waltz with her in the downpour while Viola scowled from the safety of the porch roof. The thought would always bring a smile to her lips.

Jack caught her once, caught in the daydream of a childhood memory she was never allowed to make. They had been at the jailhouse, her reading a book and he finishing up a report on a series of arrests and citations he had made shortly after a new batch of railroad workers had come into town. He asked her, teasingly, if she was thinking about him. Elizabeth, too full of nostalgia and melancholy and affection for the man beside her could do nothing but answer him honestly, her eyes never leaving the children dancing just in front of the jailhouse. When she was done, Elizabeth looked over to Jack, and her breath stilled. Adoration, humor, and the promise of something she hadn't been able to name then, danced in his hazel eyes. She had felt warm all over as he promised to take her dancing in the rain one day.

The rain was different in Hope Valley.

It would hit the roof of the row house or the cafe and Elizabeth would simply listen to the steady yet syncopated rhythms. The rain, that perfect speech silent words pouring down, judging no one and everyone, drenching the grass and soaking the trees, filling the ponds and creeks with water, washing out the sins of man to begin anew. The grass was greener, the sounds of the birds singing dance through the air more easily and the fragrance of flowers always seemed to drench Hope Valley once the rain was done. And Elizabeth would simply sit and listen, sometimes with a good book and a cup of tea, rarely with her journal and a pencil in hand, and even rarer still, with nothing at all to divide her attention from the rhythms of the world that she had not yet learned to recognize.

The rain was different in Hope Valley.

Today, the rain seemed to cry the tears that Elizabeth refused to succumb to as she picked up the readers left on the desks by her students. She wiped down the blackboard of the day's lesson, careful to leave her name, Mrs. Elizabeth Thornton, untouched in the upper left hand corner. The sight made fear and longing clench around her heart and Elizabeth forced herself to blink back the tears threatening to leave her eyes. She wouldn't cry, not today, not where he might see. He would be coming to walk home with her as soon as his rounds were done. And Elizabeth would not let Jack's last day in Hope Valley be one of tears, no matter how desperately she wanted to let the fear and sorrow bubbling up in her chest out.

So the rain cried for her. It gave life to the trees, assurance for the farmers, and happy memories for the children. And the rain gave tears for Elizabeth….

* * *

Abigail watched as the town's new Mountie, Jack told her his name was Nathaniel, dismounted from his horse and sauntered up to the jailhouse door, where Jack was waiting under the cover of the porch roof. Abigail already didn't like Nathaniel. His walk was arrogant, his nose stuck up at their small but charming town. He seemed to think himself above a post in a railroad town. Jack, standing proud and strong in his red serge, accepted a salute from the new Mountie and Abigail had to laugh. Jack obviously seemed to agree with her assessment of Nathaniel the Mountie if the look of annoyance on his face was anything to go by.

Abigail was startled to see Superintendent Collins ride in moments later. She glanced over to Jack, eyes narrowed with confusion and concern. Collins dismounted his horse and quickly climbed the stoop to the jailhouse. Jack quickly saluted him and Nathaniel followed suit. Collins returned the greeting and practically shoved Nathaniel out of the way and ushered Jack inside, closing the door in Nathaniel's face. Abigail would have laughed the sight of the Mountie standing like a lost puppy in the rain, had she not been so concerned. Jack was always informed and rarely surprised. Jack had obviously not been expecting his superior officer's visit. A chill settled around Abigail's heart. She didn't think that meant anything good….

* * *

"Sit, Thornton," Collins' voice was gruff and forceful as he pulled up the chair in front of Jack's desk. He looked rushed, disheveled, and not at all like Jack was used to seeing. Something was wrong.

"What's going on, Sir?" Jack kept his voice even.

Collins huffed as he placed his hands in his lap. He looked down at Jack's hands, fingers twined on top of his desk. Jack's wedding ring on full display. The older Mountie glanced up at Jack, suddenly heartbroken for the young Corporal. Collins would have loved to smile and slap the young Mountie on the back in congratulations. But the news and the advice on the tip of his tongue was not happy and he was not in the mood to pretend. Not with Jack who was a straight shooter, much like Collins. He always liked the man, cared for him even. It all made everything so much harder.

"Corporal," Collins heard his own voice and forced himself to soften just a bit, "Jack, I heard you got married."

Collins' heart broke a little for the young man in front of him as a small, bright smile flashed across his face, "I did, Sir."

"To the school teacher?" Jack nodded to his question, "What's her name?"

"Elizabeth Thatcher, well, Thornton now."

Collins' smiled a little at that, forgetting for a moment what he needed to say, "That's wonderful, son."

"Thank you, Sir," Jack replied happily, but Collins' noticed Jack's words had been careful, as though afraid of giving anything away. Collins' knew that Jack was preparing himself for whatever news Collins couldn't have told him through letter or telegram.

"Jack," Collins began, unsure of how to proceed, "Have you made arrangements?"

Jack's eyes narrowed as he leaned onto the desk.

Collins clarified, "Do you have a will made up, son? In case anything happens to you?"

Jack closed his eyes briefly before answering his commanding officer, "Yes sir, I have. Mayor Stanton is the notary and agreed to be the executor should anything happen to me."

"Good, good," Collins answered absently.

"Why don't you just tell me what's going on, Sir? I told my wife I would walk her home from school?"

Collins smiled at Jack's candor, "Then we don't want to keep you from your wife."

Collins smile faded and Jack began to fiddle with his wedding ring in anticipation.

"It seems that the gangs in the Territories have begun to work with several opioid and cocaine dealers," Collins paused, trying to gauge Jack's reaction. The Mountie gave nothing away. It calmed Collins for some reason, "Apparently the gangs are manufacturing opium and cocaine and transporting it along the railroad. There have been several small time dealers that we have gotten a hold of, but the big one, he keeps getting away."

Jack let the new information sink in, the cogs in his mind already spinning and working.

"If the drugs are being transported through the trains, the runners would need to have ties with someone in shipping, someone who knows Customs regulations and practices. They would need to have multiple people working for the railroad."

Collins nearly grinned as he listened to Jack's deductions. Damn, this boy was good.

"That's right. Now, currently, we don't currently have any leads on which individuals or even if a company is involved in the transports."

Jack's brow knit in thought, "Is this my new assignment, Sir?"

"No, Jack. No. That's what Nathaniel is here for," Collins glanced over his shoulder to look at the Mountie, standing outside on the porch, "He's an ass, to be sure. But he was one of the key men who busted up the rings in Hamilton and Cape Fullerton. He's good at tracking down the sons of bitches."

"Just not good at catching them," Jack finished dryly.

"Exactly. No, you're still going up North, but your job isn't to hold the gangs back. We've got plenty of men for that now and we've actually got them on the back foot now. There is a Chinaman, Xiong Lao, who's running the operation. So far, his operations have been cut off in Hamilton, but we found his product as far as Union City."

Jack blanched, "Union City? That's…"

"That's practically in your own backyard, Jack. Your job will be to track down and apprehend Xiong Lao. The goal is to bring him in for questioning, but if you have to kill the chink, so be it."

Jack grimaced at Collins last sentence. There was no need for Collins language, "Sir, I understand your frustrations, but there is no need to throw around derogatory terms."

Collins' eyes narrowed, "Are you defending this man, Corporal?"

"No, Sir," Jack answered quickly, "but I don't believe it's necessary to pass blanket statements about an entire race of people simply because one Chinese man happens to be a bad one. I would think that we are an evolved and civilized enough institution not to persecute people simply because we don't understand them."

Collins face flushed and he rose to his feet. Jack mirrored the Superintendent's actions, calmly waiting for his commanding officer to reply or walk out or hit him.

"Just find him, Corporal. Find him and bring him in or kill him. And do it before any of these drugs find their way into Hope Valley. You don't want your pretty little wife around a bunch of drugged out railroad men. You know how they are."

Veiled threats aimed at his wife and home were the quickest way to bring about a fight between menJack bit back his desire to take a swing at Collins, "I will, Sir."

Collins' face flinched. He quickly recovered, "Good. You leave tomorrow morning," and slammed the door behind him.

Jack's gaze stuck to the door while Collins pulled Nathaniel out from under the porch and began to show him around the town.

Jack lowered himself back into his chair, placing his head in his hands and bowed down.  _Dear, God, please keep me safe. Keep Elizabeth safe. Keep this town safe. Please, let this all be over soon…._

* * *

 

Jack didn't announce himself as he walked up the stairs to the schoolhouse. If he had, she would have turned around, a bright smile adorning her face in hopes that it might disguise the pain in her eyes. She would have pretended all was well and he would have followed along, not wanting to cause her more pain than he already had. So Jack stood, just inside the building that he had planned and crafted for her and for the town. He watched her move about the room, gracefully, like a dance with the rhythm of the rain. Suddenly, he remembered. A dimpled grin graced his lips.

"Hello, Mrs. Thornton," the novelty of calling her that had yet to wear off. Jack wasn't sure it ever would.

Elizabeth turned to face him, her russet air twirling about her slender neck like the fabric of her skirt did around her slender legs. For a moment, the upturn of her lips was full of joy with the knowledge that the man in front of her was her husband and she was his wife. It was bright and true and pure. Her sparkling blue eyes, Jack's favorite shade of blue, shined with love and excitement. But just for a moment. The knowledge of what was to come tomorrow came flooding back and her smile faltered, her gaze darkened and it made Jack want to run toward her and pull her tight into his arms. Tears welled in his eyes but Jack refused to let them fall. Jack would not let his last day in Hope Valley with her be one of tears, no matter how desperately he wanted to let the fear and sorrow bubbling in his chest out.

"Hello, Corporal Thornton," melancholy seemed to saturate her soft reply. But there was love there too.

Jack smiled weakly, his lips barely beginning to curve upwards, as he stretched out a hand for her to take. Elizabeth crossed the room and laced her fingers with his. Jack's hair was wet, the rain outside soaking through the hat that he held at his side. Elizabeth brushed a few loose strands to the side before planting a gentle kiss to his soft, pliant lips. Anticipation hung thick between them, the promise of lighting and thunder as evident between them as it in the clouds outside. Their lips brushed together with the softest of touches, the simple gesture sending shockwaves through them. Already breathless, Elizabeth broke the kiss, rested her forehead against his, allowing some air to return to her lungs and her pulse to calm. It was no use. A mere handful of seconds passed before Jack chased her mouth and touched her lips again.

She had missed him today, as she had every day since their returning from their four-day honeymoon to work three days ago. They would ride into town on his horse and say goodbye, trying miserably to behave properly in public with a gentle kiss his cheek or on her hand rather than the passionate embraces that they often started their mornings with. Was it possible to miss someone so much after seeing them such a short time ago? Was it possible to feel their absence so bone-deep knowing that they were a ten-minute walk away? Was something wrong with her in wanting him so much? Would she ever stop missing him? Elizabeth didn't think she would.

Elizabeth gasped in surprise as Jack broke their kiss and pulled her out into the rain. The water was cool against her heated skin and her husband's smile stole the breath out of Elizabeth's lungs. Jack took a flourished bow, tipping his soggy hat to her, "May I have the pleasure of this dance, Elizabeth Thornton?"

Elizabeth didn't think she could have loved him any more than in that moment in the rain, though she knew Jack would eventually prove her wrong. He had a habit of doing that, though Elizabeth couldn't find it in her heart to care.

"You may have all my dances, Jack Thornton," Elizabeth answered softly as Jack threw his hat to the ground and pulled her in close, "Until Kingdom come.

Jack kissed her for her answer.

Elizabeth lay her head in the crook of Jack's neck, his cheek brushing the top of her soaked hair. Jack pulled her closer still, closing his eyes as the warmth of her body seeped into his wet skin. They danced together, a silent waltz that both seemed to know by heart. The rhythm of the rain kept time, the giggles, and shouts of children running in the rain worked as the melody.

Elizabeth cried then, unable to hold back the flood of emotions that she had tried so hard to keep tucked inside. Jack held her close as they swayed in the rain, tears falling freely down his stubbly cheeks. And the rain, ever the compassionate friend, hid their cries from the world, letting the young couple hold on to the moment, a memory (a secret that all lovers store up as they go through life together) for the two of them to keep locked away in their hearts.

The rain was different in Hope Valley….


	6. By Now I Hope You Know

_They lay in front of the Chesterfield sofa, blankets surrounding them and feather pillows underneath their heads. A fire crackled at their feet. Warm orange and yellow light flickered against the lemon yellow walls, enveloping the cozy room in a golden glow. Sopping wet clothes lay strewn across the floor, leaving puddles of rainwater that they would need to clean up later. But for now, both were content to stay in each other's arms._

_Elizabeth nestled her head into the crook of Jack's neck, her delicate, slender fingers dancing across his collarbone, then down to his naked chest, just above his heart, thumping steadily underneath her touch. Jack's eyes were closed, though she knew he wasn't asleep. The rough, calloused fingers of his left hand ghosted over the soft skin of her shoulder, while his right pulled up the flannel blanket further up onto his chest. Elizabeth smiled softly, content to study him, to memorize every freckle and scar and laugh line that covered his beautiful body._

_Rain continued to fall outside, drops tapping gently against the windows. Elizabeth watched as the little streams gathered and fell down on the cool glass._

_She looked around the cozy bedroom, the reds and yellows of the fire mixing in with the cold, clear blues and blacks from the moonlit filled night. A memory, glimmering and glittering like a jewel called out to her from the dimly lit room. The rain, the fire, the love and the uncertainty all danced around her. It was all so familiar, so calming and thrilling and terrifying all at once._

" _Do you remember when you told me you loved me for the first time," Elizabeth's voice was low and velvety. She already knew the answer._

_Jack took in a breath, calm and easy. She didn't need to look at him to know he was smiling._

" _Of course I do," was his simple reply, "It was the day you told me you loved me back."_

_Elizabeth ducked the crown of her head further under his jaw. A delicate, fleeting smile flashed across her lips. She brushed a kiss against a small, half-moon shaped scar that sat above his heart; a reminder of his bout of chicken pox when he was seven. Jack's arms around her drew her closer to him._

" _Why do you ask," Jack asked after a moment._

_She doesn't answer for a minute. Jack begins to ask her again when Elizabeth breaks the comfortable silence._

" _I knew before then," Elizabeth declared softly as she traced the line of his chin, rough stubble running underneath her silky skin, "I knew before you even kissed me that first time on our hill."_

_Jack flashed her grin, his dimples etching into his cheeks, "When did you know?"_

_Elizabeth smiled back. She lifted herself up to look at Jack. His short, dark brown hair was mussed and sticking up more on one side than the other. She couldn't help the tiny giggle that passed her lips. She would be the only one to ever see him like this. So different from the straight-laced, put together appearance of Jack Thornton, the Mountie. Here, just like this, he was just Jack, her husband, lover, best friend. This intimacy was for her and her alone. And Jack, with his deep, hazel eyes that looked almost like emeralds, stared right back at her. Love pooled in his attention and affection poured out from his gaze._ God, he was mesmerizing.

_Jack waited patiently, content to lay curled up against her. Her beautiful, silky russet hair fell down around her face in gentle waves. He didn't even try to resist the urge to push back a few strands that had fallen from behind her ear. He was the only one who would ever see her like this. So open and free, so different to the measured, controlled manner she carried herself with around town and in her classroom. Here, she wasn't Elizabeth Thatcher, the school teacher. Right now, in his arms, she was just Elizabeth, his wife, love, and best friend. Moments like this were for him and him alone. Her sapphire eyes were bright against the flickering firelight in front of her._  God, she was mesmerizing.

_Jack watched closely as Elizabeth's gaze seemed to drift past him, caught up in a memory._

" _You were helping Abigail," Elizabeth started, "It was in the summer and the windows had been sticking. So you offered to help sand them and check the rope pulls to make sure they would open."_

_Jack's eyes narrowed, "That's when you knew?"_

_Elizabeth chuckled, "I'm not finished."_

_A quick grin from Jack set her heart aflutter, but Elizabeth continued, "I had come in through the back for tea with Abigail, so you didn't see me. Abigail was working in the kitchen," Elizabeth paused, as she conjured up the details of all she had seen and heard within the memory._

" _There were several of my students there, and they wouldn't stop pestering you with questions: what are you doing Mountie Jack, why are you sanding the windows, Mountie Jack, why is there a pulley and rope in the window?" Elizabeth explained, mimicking some of her students' voices, and Jack couldn't tamper the chuckle that had risen in his throat._

" _You had been working since the morning, and it was unbearably hot that day. The cafe was stuffy and it was clear that you were uncomfortable in the room. You had every right to dismiss the children, even to become short with them," Elizabeth's gaze and grin were brilliant and bright as she looked Jack in the eye, "but you never lost your temper. You smiled and laughed and answered every question they threw your way. You even let a few of them help you. You taught them and you made them feel important."_

_Jack smiled, "You know, I honestly don't remember any of that."_

_Elizabeth's smile fell, a serious countenance etched into the soft contours of her face. She raised her hand to his hair, brushed the few strands that fell over his face, "You made them feel special, needed even. And then I realized that you make everyone around you feel that way. You constantly reminded Abigail how strong and brave she was to carry on after Noah died. You took time to make those children feel needed and appreciated. And then I realized that you make everyone around you feel special because you truly believe that they are. I saw how much you cared deeply about everyone around you, everyone that you swore you would protect when you became a Mountie."_

_Jack was silent as Elizabeth finished her account, "And I couldn't help but think, 'By God, I love this man."_

_Jack placed a gentle kiss against her lips, a silent thanks for the precious gift of her memories before she lowered her head back down on his shoulder._

_Moments stretched between them, a companionable silence filling the time. A memory crept up from the recesses of his mind. It was a precious moment, a secret, one that he kept hidden and safe from the rest of the world. He trusted her to keep it._

" _I knew I loved you when you told me to leave Hope Valley," Jack whispered._

_Elizabeth turned her gaze from the fire to look at him. Jack smiled softly at her._

" _You were crying and I could see your heart was breaking just as much as mine. And I wanted nothing more than for you to ask me to stay," Jack looked away and back at the fire, "But you didn't, you wouldn't let me give up everything I had worked for, everything that I wanted to achieve."_

_Jack looked back at his wife… his wife… her shimmering, devoted gaze sinking deep into his chest and his heart, "And suddenly it was so clear, that none of it would be worth it if I didn't get to share it with you."_

Elizabeth cut Jack off as she pulled him into a deep kiss. Surprise gave way to passion as Jack teased _the seam of her lips with his tongue. He nearly chuckled at the way, grinning at the way she jolted, kissed her again, then slowly eased up to lean over her. Jack pulls back, just for a moment, to take in the sight of her. Elizabeth's eyes fluttered open, and she gazed at him in undeniable_ _adoration_ _and affection_ _._ Jack's eyes glittered happily, curling his arms around her as he reflected again on the beautiful awareness that he was somehow here with her. That she was his wife and he was her husband. Oh, how he wanted _to please her like this, for the rest of his days_ _…_

_Elizabeth grinned languidly up at him, tracing her finger lightly over his lips. Her eyes darkened as he lowered his face and kissed her, kissed her so tenderly. As they continued to kiss, relishing in each other's warmth, they shifted, wriggled closer together, somehow rolled. Elizabeth lay above him now, and she eased back from his kiss, looking tenderly into his eyes which were clouded with passion._

" _I wish I had told you sooner_ _…"_ _Elizabeth gasped_ _,_ _unable to speak the words caught in her throat_ _._ _There was no way to express what she was thinking, how much more time they might have had, how many more days they might have had like this if she had... Her fingers brushed softly over his cheek and ended up tangling into the silky strands of his hair_ _. "I_ _wish I hadn't got so caught up," she finished, simply._

_Jack just_ _smiled_ _, a glimmer of sadness tinged the corners of his mouth. "I know."_

_Somehow, that meant more to her than anything else. Elizabeth knew that they had wasted so much, too much time. But he knew. Jack knew and understood and that… that was the dearest thing._

_She kissed him then, lowering her body to press tightly against his. She felt Jack's chest dip shallowly as his breath came quicker, felt his pulse flutter and beat steady underneath her palm that sat underneath his strong jaw. Jack's hazel eyes glinted with mischief, though his expression was serious, and suddenly she knew what he was thinking. His tongue passed over his lips, and Elizabeth_ _lost her breath_ _._

_Soon, Jack lost his…._

* * *

**FOUR MONTHS LATER:**

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Elizabeth woke with a start, her eyes landing on her front door. She glanced at the grandfather clock just to the right of the door: 9:30 P.M.

"Who on Earth," Elizabeth mumbled to herself as she rose from the Chesterfield. She wrapped her dressing gown tightly around her as she walked over and opened the door.

"ELIZABETH!"

Elizabeth's eyes grew wide at the woman in front of her. Her soft red hair piled up on top of her head, though a few loose strands had fallen to frame her face.

"Julie? What are you doing here!"

Julie and Elizabeth reached for one another, tears shining both their eyes as the held each other close, "You weren't supposed to be here for another two weeks!"

Julie pulled away and walked into the living area, lugging a rather large suitcase behind her, "I couldn't stay away another day. There's too much happening!"

Elizabeth smiled tenderly while her younger sister took off her coat and hung it purposefully on the coatrack, "Julie, really, there wasn't a need for you to come earlier than planned."

Julie glanced over her shoulder at her sister as Elizabeth closed the door. The youngest Thatcher sister smiled as she took in her older sibling. Elizabeth's face was glowing, slightly rounder than when Julie last saw her. Elizabeth's hair was pulled back in a loose braid and tied with a small piece of blue silk ribbon. A white dressing gown (a belated wedding present from their mother) was wrapped loosing around Elizabeth's frame. The tiny swell around her older sister's middle filled Julie with such happiness and pride she could scarcely breathe.

"Elizabeth Grace Thornton," Julie punctuated each of her sister's names, "I have spent most of my life wrapped up in flights of fancy that I conjured up for myself."

Julie walked over to Elizabeth, grasped her slender hands, and lovingly stared at her older sister, "I have been selfish, irresponsible, and entitled. And you, my dear sister, have done nothing but be supportive, encouraging, and inspiring."

Elizabeth ducked her head, clearly uncomfortable with the flowery, yet heartfelt compliment, "Julie, really…"

Julie didn't let her finish, "You have always been there for me. It's time for me to be here for you. Father, God Bless him, is making sure that you and Jack and this little one," Julie moved one of her hands to rest on the gentle swell of Elizabeth's stomach, "will have the house you and Jack have dreamed up for yourselves."

Elizabeth and Julie both let out a gentle laugh before Julie's countenance grew serious, more serious than Elizabeth had ever seen before, "And I will be here to help you build the home you and Jack have always wished for. And when he gets back, and he will Beth, the three of you can focus on being a family. Because you both deserve nothing less."

Tears welled up and a gentle sob escaped Elizabeth's mouth, "Julie Thatcher, you continue to surprise me."

Julie's bright eyes shimmered with a mischief that warmed Elizabeth's heart, "Well I should hope so! Lord knows we already have one boring sister in this family. It just wouldn't do to have two!"

A throaty laugh bubbled up between them as Julie led them over to the Chesterfield.

"I'm serious," Elizabeth began, "Julie…" she struggled to find the right words. It was so much harder when she didn't have her typewriter to craft multiple drafts until Elizabeth was finally pleased with the combinations of poetic phrases and metaphors and similes. Still, Julie deserved to know how proud she was, so Elizabeth fought the dizzying elation that clouded her mind in order to find the words.

"You've truly turned yourself around," Elizabeth nearly whispered, "You're not chasing every man that throws a glance your way. You're responsible and attentive to those around you. Goodness, Julie, you're a bonafide suffragette!"

Julie smiled proudly at her sister's last description. Elizabeth flashed a grin of her own before continuing, "You've grown up so much and I'm so blessed to watch it. To see you becoming the woman I always knew you could be. And I'm just so proud of you."

A breathless sigh of relief flowed through Julie at Elizabeth's declaration. Of all the people in the world, Beth was by far the one Julie had always hoped to please. Sweet Beth, who had always stood up for her when she refused to listen to their stuffy governesses. Beth, who had sneaked her favorite books into her room when she was barred from the library as penance for cutting off a lock of Viola's hair. Beth, who had let Julie sleep with her when the thunderstorms in Hamilton had scared her to the point of exhaustion, who had pet her hair and sang songs to in order to help her sleep anyway. Beth, who had taught her what it meant to love one person with her whole heart and without reservation.

Beth was proud of her, and Julie couldn't be happier.

"I blame it on that Tom Thornton," Julie threw back, still unable to fully let her sister know just how much her words of affirmation meant, "he's a rebel, you know."

Elizabeth laughed, recognizing her sister's deflection, and decided to play along regardless, "That he is. But a rebel with a heart."

"That he does. I'm a little bit in love with him, Beth."

"I would say you're about as in love with him as I am with Jack," was Elizabeth's playful reply.

Julie's eyes lit up at the mention of her beau, still hundreds of miles away with the railroad, but ever present in her thoughts, "Those Thornton men, Beth. They sure know how to turn the world upside down for a girl. Don't they?"

Jack's handsome face danced behind Elizabeth's eyes. Melancholy flashed across her face as her hand rose to rest atop her slightly rounded belly, full of the beginnings of a new life. For several months, she had wondered and hoped that she was reading her body's signs correctly. And finally, just three weeks ago, with dear Abigail sitting beside her, Dr. Sheppard had informed Elizabeth that she was pregnant.

And now, beneath her hand lay the perfect proof of her love for Jack and his love for her. A miracle and a blessing Elizabeth could never have asked for but had longed for all the same. A meek smile began to grow and Elizabeth turned her gaze to the glowing fire in front of them, "They do indeed."

Julie basked in the glow of her sister's unassuming grace for a moment longer. After a beat, she took her queue and rose from the sofa.

"Well," Julie's voice was upbeat, attempting to brighten her sister's thoughts, "I'm going to put the kettle on and you, dear sister, are going to catch me up."

Elizabeth gave her a loving smile, "That sounds lovely. But first, what's this I hear about Tom writing Father for his blessing?"

Julie rolled her eyes as Beth came to join her in the kitchen.

"I swear, Beth," Julie began with mock annoyance, "I don't know what you and Jack did to him! All of a sudden, he's building you and Jack a house and giving Tom his blessing and telling Viola that she and Lionel need to go to India or something equally as daring."

Elizabeth's eyes widened, "He did what?!"

Julie nodded furiously, "He said they were too stuffy and boring and they needed to inject some excitement into their lives."

Elizabeth guffawed and Julie let out a deep belly laugh at the sight of her sister's stunned expression, "I don't believe it!"

"Just ask Tom!" Julie exclaimed, her entire face gleaming at the mention of her beau's name, "Father invited Tom to dinner before he left for Union City. One minute we are all talking calmly over our lobster bisque, and the next I know, he's talking about the Indian Subcontinent and how we all need to visit!"

Elizabeth's laughter rang throughout the house. Julie's giggling served as a pleasant harmony.

"I wish you could see him, Beth," Julie breathed through her fit of laughter, "Father seems to have a new lease on life. He's taken a step back from work, so Charles does most of the travel between vendors and shipping posts. He and mother have decided tour Europe, and he's even talked about building a home here in Hope Valley to be close to you, Jack, me and Tom!"

Elizabeth's eyes widened, "Father's not working? Now I know you're lying."

Julie let out a less than ladylike snort and Elizabeth laughed so hard that tears began to well in her eyes….

* * *

Steam billowed around his feet. The cold wind nipped at the skin of his legs, uncovered by the tattered fabric of his canvas pants. His thin coat did little to block out the cold, but the huddled mass of railroad workers around him shielded enough of the wind.

He watched silently, as he and the men around him moved out of the boxcar and began the short trek to the railroad shanties.  _Like cattle_ , he thought to himself. They moved like cattle to the slaughter.

Shouts from the conductors, neighs from horses hitched to coaches and wagons, and the shrill sound of the train whistle mixed together in a strange, unwelcoming cacophony. He should have been used to it by now. He had helped lay hundred of miles of railroad into the Canadian wilderness. He had lived in countless towns, seen countless stations and depots. Yet he still couldn't stand the screeching of the train whistle, the stench of burning coal.

The shanties in Hope Valley were nicer than most, a clear sign that he was in a fairly new railroad town. The promise of what the trains could bring, the shiny, glimmering possibilities still danced in their heads. If only they knew how horrible all was. No one ever thought about how much blood went into the slamming of a railroad spike, how many broken bones went into the lumber cut for the tracks or the burnt skin that went into the metal rails.

"KEEP TO YOUR GROUPS!" one of the railroad foremen shouted out into the crisp night air, "NIGGERS AND CHINKS TO MY LEFT! REDS TO MY RIGHT. EVERYONE ELSE TO THE KEEP GOING UP THE HILL!"

"Typical," he muttered to himself as he pulled his boots from the suction pull of the mud underneath them.  _Let the white men get the dry high ground. Let everyone else live in the muck._

His stomach turned painfully as he watched the mass of men splinter off into their groups without thought or care.  _Good God, we are cattle._

"JEEHOO CHANG! JEEHOO CHANG!" another foreman shouted, waiting just outside of the tents sectioned off for the "Chinamen." He paid him no mind.

"Jiahao," someone whispered behind him, "he's calling for you."

He huffed in annoyance, "I couldn't tell."

"Come on, Jiahao. Don't do this. It's the first night here. At least try to be civil."

"JEEHOO CHANG! JEEHOO CHANG!" the foreman called again.

Jiahao rolled his eyes but walked over to the foreman anyway. The man was easily fifteen years younger than him, no more than twenty, still wet behind the ears yet somehow his boss, "I'm Jiahao Chang. You may call me Joshua if it helps."

Shock and confusion flashed across the foreman's face, "You speak English pretty could for a chink."

_And you wouldn't know proper grammar if it bit you on the ass._  Jiahao bit back the angry retort just behind his teeth, "Thank you, sir.

The foreman grunted before shoving a crisp envelope into his dirty hands, "This came with explicit instructions to give this to you as soon as you arrived. Some big wig up in Ontario paid a pretty loonie to get it to you."

Bile collected in the back of Jiahao's throat. The letter felt like lead in his hands.

The foreman looked Jiahao up and down, obviously confused and aggravated by his silence, "Well on your way, son."

Jiahao obeyed silently, walking quietly to an empty tent, his eyes never leaving the letter. Finally, when he was able to keep his hands from shaking, Jiahao opened the envelope. The paper was made with linen canvas, the writing on it slanted and aggressive:

_Mr. Joshua Chang,_

_The first shipment of product will be arriving in two weeks on the next rain along with supplies._

_The marks on the crates are identical to those you delivered in Union City._

_Cheaper product is to be sold for nothing less than $20 Canadian. High-end product is to be sold_

_for $75. No checks. Only cash and coin._

_I will arrive in Hope Valley in three months to collect the profits. No less than three-quarters of all_

_product should be sold by then._

_Updates on product sales are expected bi-weekly._

_Burn this letter once you have read it._

_C.K._

Jiahao grabbed the rain bucket outside his tent and threw the letter inside it. He pulled the book of matches from his tattered pocket and struck the matchstick against the side of the bucket before dropping into the drum. He watched silently as flames licked the crisp, linen paper. He stared into the flames as the emblem of Thatcher Trading Company smoldered and disintegrated….


	7. Hell Is Empty

He hated the cold. It bit at his skin no matter how many layers he wore. It seeped into his bones and settled like rocks at the bottom of a stream. It made the metal of his rifle sting against his chapped hands.

Snow was beginning to settle in drifts along the wide expanse of empty terrain. It would make it more difficult to move quickly and quietly to the shanties just ahead. Smoke billowed up from their chimneys, a sign of warmth and comfort that caused a flash of envy through his blood.

"Scouts just got back," a low voice whispered in his ear, "looks like there's thirteen men. We know for sure that eleven of them are armed, but I would bet on the other two carrying a piece."

"What kind of weapons are we looking at?" Jack began his usual line of questions.

Newly promoted Captain Jack Thornton glanced over to man beside him. Corporal Matthew, "Matty" VanNoppen knelt on the hard, frozen ground beside him. His blonde hair had turned a ruddy brown due to the lack of sunshine that came with the winter months. His chin and cheeks had patches of facial hair that did little to cover his face and protect it from the cold, bone chilling cold, of the wind that whipped around them. Corporal Matthew VanNoppen had been stationed in the Northern Territories for two months compared to Jack's four, nothing more than a Constable. The young man had quickly risen through the ranks and had become the indispensable right hand of Jack's command.

"In the back they've got four men with two Enfield .303s and what look like Martini Henry carbines. But the scouts weren't a hundred percent on that."

Matty paused, unsure of how to continue. Jack tore his gaze away from the shanties back to his corporal, "What about the other nine men?"

Matty glanced down at the ground beneath his elbows, "A group of five men on the left hand side have at least eight 1871' Mauser rifles."

Jack grimaced. The gun was old and impractical in a fire fight to be sure. It was relatively slow to reload and when it was fired, a shower of soot and smoke came back in the face of the shooter. After two three shots were fired from it, the barrel and stock would be too hot to hold, so it would have to be thrown away to cool. What's more, the concussion of it was so severe that it the shooter would often be drive back a few feet.

On the other hand, the heavy lead bullets fired by the Howth did more damage to a body than Jack thought possible from a gun. The bullets would break up on impact, blasting through wood and stone and bone and skin. He'd seen them rip through flesh and leave gaping holes in the chests and stomachs and heads of men. Damn, bad news all around.

"Any dogs," Jack asked through gritted teeth.

"There were but," Matty swallowed in disgust, "looks like they ate them."

Jack shuddered, "Well, we've been following them for two weeks. There hasn't been any game to hunt and all the lakes are frozen over. There probably wasn't anything left to eat."

"Still," Matty countered, "I'd rather die."

They both knew that it was a lie. Just last week they had to start eating a horse that dropped dead on them. But Jack said nothing, refusing to call out the untruth.

The Northern Territories were cruel and unforgiving. The harsh winter did not discriminate between the good and bad. They were all trespassing on land that, while harsh, was still pure and untouched by the ways of man.  _Not anymore_ , Jack thought bitterly. Too much blood had been spilt here. Another Eden, however cruel it may be, had been destroyed by man.

"Right," Jack swallowed whatever spit he had left.  _God, when did he get so dehydrated_ , "Take Cooper and Ouimet. You'll flank the shandies. I'll take Shelby, Graham and Clarke to pull up on the left. We'll take care of the Howth Mausers."

"Where do you want Fraser's unit?"

"Once we take out the Mausers, have him double back behind us. Make sure they stay on horseback in case anyone tries to make a break for it. Once it's clear, we'll send a messenger back to Fraser to regroup. We'll use the shanties for the night before checking in at Yellowknife."

"Understood, Captain."

"Okay," Jack breathed out as he gripped his rifle, "Let's move out."

* * *

The soft breeze carried the unmistakable message that winter had arrived. Snow was beginning to fall to the ground as far as the eye could see. The pond beside the school house had frozen over and she could hear children laughing and skates cutting into the thick ice. But Elizabeth wasn't looking at the pond or the wintery landscape. She was looking at the house, sitting on top of the hill.

"Well, Mrs. Thornton," George Cyrus, the town blacksmith and handy man walked over to where Elizabeth stood, "I say it's perfect timing that we got the windows put in. Mean's the house is sealed up nice and tight for the winter. We'll be able to finish up the inside by the time spring rolls around. Then we'll paint."

Elizabeth smiled softly, "It's beautiful, George. You're all doing such a wonderful job."

George grinned and tipped his hat at the compliment, "Thank you, ma'am. But it's easy to make a pretty house when you've got the right plans. I tell ya, if being a Mountie don't work out for him, Mountie Jack's got a bright future as an architect."

A giggle escaped her lips, "I'll be sure to tell him that in my next letter, George."

"You do that, Mrs. Thornton. You do that."

Elizabeth gave a quick grin as she took in the house once more. Even hundreds of miles away, Jack continued to show Elizabeth just how much he loved her.

The house was something out of her dreams. A long porch wrapped around the first floor of the front of the house with narrow columns holding up the tin roof. Windows filled the front and sides, letting natural light poor into the bright and airy house. Two bright, birch wood doors sat in the center of it all, welcoming anyone to enter.

"Your father wrote that he's coming next month to check on the progress," George continued.

"Yes," Elizabeth replied, amusement in her voice, "He's very excited to see how everything is coming along. He told me he's bringing me something for the inside of the house."

"What do you think it is?"

A hearty laugh escaped her lips, "Lord only know with that man."

"What do you  _hope_  he's bringing?" George amended his original questions.

Elizabeth paused, mulling the question over in her mind, "My books," she answered.

"Can't say I'm surprised that you're a book worm, Mrs. Thornton."

She let out another laugh, "When I was growing up, I always had my nose in a book. One day I was 20,000 leagues under the sea, the next week I was at a ball in Netherfield with the Bennet Sisters," Elizabeth allowed herself to be swept up in the memories of her childhood, "They are magical things, books. They can take you anywhere you want to go without leaving your front door."

George smiled knowingly, "Well, here's hoping that he bring you some books."

Elizabeth smiled softly and George and gave him a small nod.

Hammers hitting nails, the scrape of a saw, the shouts of a few men reverberated through the air. She watched them scurry like ants as they began to pack their tools for the snow drift that was settling in.

"Snow's coming in," George remarked, "May I give you a ride back to town?"

Elizabeth smiled again at George's kind offer, "I believe I'll take you up on that George."

—

Sucking in a deep, calming breath, he chanced a glance at the gray sky. Snow was falling steadily. The flakes were beginning to stick to the brim of his Stetson hat and gather up on his shoulders. The ground began to crunch under his wet leather boots.

Concentrating on each breath, Jack knew that was all he could do. Breathe in. Breathe out. He paid careful attention to the his breath swirling and cool into a visible puff of a cloud in the chilled winter air. Breathe in. Breathe out. The constant patterns of his chest moving, his lungs filling, and his breath escaping steadied him. Just take out the Mausers. Keep as many of the men alive to take back for questioning. Make it past their lines of defense and survive. Mausers. Prisoners. Survive.

Mausers. Prisoners. Survive. The mantra echoed in his head as his breath let out gray puffs of smoke in the cold air.

HIs gaze shifted to the horizon. Elizabeth would be heading over to Abigail's cafe for tea after school. She would help students with homework if they walked into the cafe for a spell. If he was there, she would start making (or attempting to make) dinner for them. He wondered if she was thinking of him. He hoped she was. It would be comforting to think that if just for this moment, he was on her mind while she was on his.

He squezzed the trigger guard of his rifle once more. The metal of his wedding band scraped against the iron underside of the rifle barrel. Jack's feet moved quietly on the ground. They hadn't been spotted yet. Just a few seconds more. That was all they needed to get a good shot. Just a few seconds more.

One of the guards called out. Shouts began to ring out. They had been spotted. The stench of fear and anticipation seemed to cling to the air.  _Just a few more steps._

Jack felt a bullet graze his ear.

* * *

She loved wintertime in Hope Valley. The town square had a lovely dusting of snow atop the roofs of the buildings. The smells of baked goods and cinnamon and hot cocoa flooded her senses. Decorations were already being put up for Christmas, and a large Balsam fir sat in the heart of town as a beacon for the holidays to come.

Elizabeth smiled softly as she caught a glimpse of Julie and Tom just outside Abigail's cafe.

"Well there's my favorite Thatcher sister!" Tom shouted in jest, receiving a mostly playful in the stomach from Julie, "Oww."

Elizabeth couldn't help the chuckle that danced past her lips as Julie rolled her eyes, "Oh please, you baby."

"Two weeks into your engagement and you're already bickering like an old married couple," Elizabeth remarked as she made her way up the steps and onto the porch.

Utter euphoria radiated from Julie at the mention of her and Tom's engagement. Elizabeth watched them turn to one another with love and affection and she couldn't help the bitter hint of envy rise up in her throat. She was happy for them, truly. All Elizabeth had ever wanted for her younger sister was to happy and fulfilled and loved. And anyone with two eyes could see how blissfully happy Julie Thatcher was, especially when a certain railroad foreman named Tom Thornton was on her arm. Elizabeth was truly happy for them….

But her love for her sister did not quell the bitter taste of envy that rose up in her throat. Elizabeth placed a reverent hand on the swell of her stomach, still hidden to the world save for the ones who knew to look for it. Envy and anger and sadness rushed through Elizabeth and before she even knew what was happening, tears were threatening to fall down her cheeks, made rosy from the chilly winter air.

Elizabeth couldn't tamp down the resentment that flooded through her. That Tom and Julie, who had been so selfish and self-centered for so long, were blessed to see each other every day… it tore at Elizabeth's heart. It wasn't fair that Tom and Julie, who had lied and schemed in some way or another, could have dinner together every night and hold hands whenever they wished. It was wrong that Tom and Julie were so blessed when Jack and Elizabeth were so far apart. It was wrong that Elizabeth had spent more time as a married woman without her husband's warm embrace and gentle gaze and biting humor than she had with it. It wasn't right that Elizabeth was four months pregnant and Jack, who's greatest fear was missing his child's life as his father had missed his, was off fighting in some dangerous place for God know how long.

"Are you okay, Beth?" Julie's voice cut through Elizabeth's tumultuous thoughts. Julie's brow furrowed quizzically.

Elizabeth forced a grin as she nodded yes, "Just tired. My students were quite jumpy today."

"I can't say I blame them," Tom said, "What with that beautiful pond to skate on and the entire weekend to do it!"

"Oh what a lovely idea!" Julie shouted, "We should go skating tomorrow."

Tom and Julie continued to talk but Elizabeth listened with quiet disinterest. She moved to open the door to Abigail's Cafe with Tom and Julie right behind her.

* * *

Gunshots cracked through the cold, damp air. Smoke billowed around the shanties,. A yell of adrenaline ripped from between Jack's chapped lips. His heart thudded in time with the pounding of his boots as he peered through the smoke from the Mausers at his target and fired another shot. A grim look of satisfaction flitted over his face as one more dropped to the ground.

Everything was chaos, devastation, blood and things he didn't want to think of, all clamoring in some giant mess around him. It was too much to concentrate on and yet that was all he could do, focus, focus on another step, another target, another shot. Jack raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger. CLICK!

_Damn it_ , Jack thought as he threw the empty rifle down and pulled his pistol from its holster.

Blood trickled down the left side of his face as the tip of his ear hung by a sliver of skin. The wind bit against the wound and the pain of it made Jack want to scream.

Blood spattered across his face.

Jack looked over his shoulder to see Clarke fall to the ground with a sickening crack, less than two feet from Jack's muddy, snow covered boots. Blood leaked from the hole in his back and oozed into a crimson pool on the pearly white snow beneath his lifeless body. Bile collected in his throat. Anger welled up in his veins. Jack turned back to his target, a man with a scraggly beard and no front teeth.

The man had used his shot on Clarke…. and he didn't have enough time to reload his weapon.

Slowly, Jack raised his pistol and aimed the muzzle to the man's chest, "Drop the gun," Jack bellowed.

The man's neck muscles twitched in indecision.

"I will not ask you again," Jack spoke slowly, "Put down your gun or I will shoot."

Jack's eyes flashed to movement behind the gunman. Matty's familiar face popped up from behind one of the shanties. Ouimet walked behind him with two men bound at the wrists and shoulders. The gunman dropped his rifle.

Jack lowered his pistol slightly and began to walk toward the disarmed gunman.

"Go to hell!" The gunman shouted… pulling out a pistol from his coat.

Jack raised his pistol and both men shot….


	8. And All The Devils Are Here

He bit down on the stick in his mouth as the medic cut off the hanging piece of flesh. He could smell his flesh cooking as the poker singed the graze, cauterizing what was left of the top of his ear. Tears welled in his eyes as the medic rubbed down the burn with iodine and a sticky salve. Numbness set in as bandages were carefully placed to cover the top of his ear. Still… better to be alive and feel pain than be dead.

Jack glanced over at the three bodies beside them: Cooper, Clarke, and Graham. They were so young, the oldest not even twenty-one. He was tired of seeing boys die.

"Well, Jack," the medic started, "I can't say that your wife will be too happy with you missing part of your ear. But it was just the tip, nothing major is damaged. You just don't look as pretty as you used to."

Jack moved his attention back to the living and gave the medic a pained grin, "Thank you, Lewis."

Lewis gave a curt nod, "If it starts to itch just let me know. For now, I say we get some fires going and get a good night's rest for once."

"I couldn't agree more," Jack drawled.

Lewis helped Jack to his feet as the remaining mounties began to set up camp for the night.

There were four shanties, each with a small chimney or fire pit. Each one could hold four in relative comfortability, more than enough for the mounties and their three captured drug runners. Two of them, nasty looking men with rotting teeth and sores on their faces, fought back, giving Ouimet a black eye and Fraser a broken nose. They were placed in a separate shanty with two mounties on guard at all times.

The third, however, simply raised his hands up, offered to show them were the drugs were stashed, and sat patiently as he was bound and carried off to one of the better kept shanties: the shanty that Jack, Matty and Ouimet were sharing.

It was quiet, the kind of quiet that only comes from falling snow on a dark winter's night. The fire crackled in the small wood-burning stove, filling the ramshackle shanty with a hazy heat. Sweat save the crackling fire and the gentle snores of his fellow Mounties.

Jack had offered to take first watch, giving him a chance to read the latest letters he had received from his last check in at the Mountie post in Yellowknife. The stack was several letters thick, a sure sign that mail had been delayed in getting to him.

Warmth and affection swept over Jack as he noticed the meticulous cursive his name was written in: a shared letter from Lee and Rosie that made Jack chuckle.

_Honestly, Jack, I'm going crazy with all of this time off. I've even resorted to cleaning the house! I can't wait to go back to work._

_He's been underfoot all week! I love him, Jack, you know that. But my Lord, If I hear him asking for the mop or dusting supplies one more time, I am going to scream!_

An envelope with two letters from Abigail and Cody that made him yearn for baseball games and fresh baked scones.

_The new Mountie is getting on well enough with everyone in town, even though he is an insufferable little prig, if you pardon my saying so. He doesn't say thank you for anything and has made it abundantly clear what he thinks of women in an position of authority._ _He even had the nerve to say that my biscuits were dry!_ _Needless to say, he's no Jack Thornton._

_I finally figured out how to throw a slider! I just kept practicing like you showed me and I finally got it! Robert hates to play now, since he can't hit it. But I don't mind._

A handmade card from all Elizabeth's students with colorings and drawings that made him long for an innocence he had lost a few months back.

_We miss you, Mountie Jack! Come home soon! Mrs. Thornton doesn't know as much about bears and snakes and bugs as you do._

And one letter from Elizabeth… one perfect, beautiful letter that made him dream of home… of her.

_I don't know how to write this. I should be able to. I'm a writer for goodness sake, Jack! But by God, I cannot begin to know how to tell you the most wonderful news in the world. I'm pregnant, sweetheart. I'm having a baby._ We _are having a baby. I'm going to be a mother and you…you're going to be a_ father _, Jack._

_How can I even begin to tell you how much I love you or how thankful I am to have been given such a gift?_

The letter filled him with such hope and joy that made the painful ache in his shoulder and the throbbing in his ear go numb.  _A baby._

* * *

"It's very kind of you to stay and help me clean up, dear," Abigail remarked as she picked up an empty tea cup, "But you could have gone with everyone to pond. I wouldn't have minded."

A gentle smile, the kind a child gives her mother, danced across Elizabeth's lips, "It's no trouble, Abigail. And besides, it's been too long since we've been able to spend time together, just the two of us."

"Lord knows that's true," Abigail agreed, affection laced with every word, "And in that case, I'm more than happy you decided to stay and help me clean up."

Elizabeth flashed a quick grin as Abigail looked her way but let it fall when Abigail turned her head. She was so tired of smiling, pretending that everything was fine. She was tired, her back ached, and her feet were swollen. Elizabeth's skirt was pinching at the waist and her blouses were starting to pucker at her chest. It was all in service of the precious child growing inside her, and Elizabeth was grateful for it. But by God, she was so sad that Jack wasn't there to experience it all with her.

"Now," Abigail's warm voice cut through the clatter of dishes in the sink, "are you going to tell me what's on your mind, or do I have to pry it out of you with my homemade cocoa and cookies?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "I'm not five years old, Abigail."

"No," Abigail agreed, humor sparkling in her coffee colored eyes, "but you do have a sweet tooth. And if I'm right, and you know I am, the cravings are starting."

A moment passed between them before Abigail pointed her finger at one of the dining room chairs, "Sit," was her kind, yet firm command. Elizabeth conceded defeat and lowered herself onto the wooden chair.

Abigail went about the kitchen getting the stove hot for hot cocoa. She placed two mugs and plates on the table before lowering a tin of cookies in front of Elizabeth. Abigail began to stir cocoa powder into a pan of hot milk.

"So, my dear. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"

Elizabeth lowered her gaze to her slender hands resting atop the solid oak dinner table. Where to begin? A million thoughts raced through her head, so many of them conflicting and confusing. How could she be so happy and sad all at once? How could she be so angry, yet so at peace? How could she have everything she had prayed for, yet have none of it?

"Elizabeth?"

Abigail's soft, honey coated voice washed over Elizabeth. She raised her gaze to see Abigail watching her. Tears welled in her eyes, "Oh, Abigail," came out her choked reply.

Abigail left her spot at the stove and shuffled over to Elizabeth's side, grasping her hands tightly as the young school teacher began to cry. Elizabeth began to shake with sobs and Abigail moved to throw her arm over Elizabeth's shoulder, pulling her into a fierce hug.

"Oh, Elizabeth," was all she could think to say.

"I'm trying to be strong," Elizabeth breathed out through her tears, "I'm trying to have faith and just accept all of this as a part of God's plan."

Elizabeth pulled herself out of the hug to look Abigail in the eye, "I'm so happy that Jack and I are married. I… words can't even begin to describe how utterly happy I am that we're having a baby. But he should be here, Abigail. He should get to be here for all of it and reading about it in letters. He  _deserves_  to be here for all of it."

Tears welled up and Abigail did her best not to let them fall, "Sweetheart, this life… the life of a Mountie,"

"It's not about his job, Abigail," Elizabeth rolled her eyes, annoyed, "Jack was born to be a Mountie. And I'm so proud of him for that. I am so proud of him for everything he does. But…"

Elizabeth closed her eyes.  _Why was it so hard to say?_  Why couldn't she put it into words? She ached all over, a bone crushing pain that only came when a heart wasn't whole. Frustration and confusion boiled up inside her. Sorrow etched onto her face and Abigail watched helplessly silent tears fell down Elizabeth's rounding cheeks.

And then it all became clear.

"It's okay to be angry with God, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth blanched, "Abigail…"

A soft, sad smile made its way onto Abigail's face, "It's okay to be happy and excited for this baby and sad that Jack isn't here. It's okay to be thrilled for that your sister gets to see Tom and hold his hand and talk with him everyday and angry that you can't do the same with Jack. It's okay to be angry with God for giving you so much joy yet allow so much sorrow into your life."

Elizabeth closed her eyes again, more tears falling from the cracks of her eyelids. Abigail pulled her back into a hug as sobs once again wracked Elizabeth's slender frame.

"You get to be angry and confused as to why God is giving you more than you think you can bare. But Elizabeth," Abigail placed both hands on either side of Elizabeth's face, forcing her to look Abigail in the eye, "you can't wallow in it. You can't hold it in. You can't let it take over. That's not who you are."

Elizabeth took in a deep breath, "I know," she whispered, "I know."

"God doesn't promise that bad things won't happen. He just promises that He will be there for us when they do. He promises us comfort and love and peace when all seems lost," Abigail continued, "And you, my dear, have so much to hope for, so much to plan for. You have your students that adore you, you have a sister who is getting married and needs your help and guidance in the coming months."

She placed a loving hand on Elizabeth's barely rounded stomach. Elizabeth's own hand found its way over hers. Abigail held on to it tightly, "And you have… the most wonderful baby on the way. This beautiful little piece of you and Jack. You have the promise of being a  _mother_ , Elizabeth… and you've given Jack one of the most wonderful gifts he could ever receive… the promise of being a  _father_."

Silence fell between them as Elizabeth's breathing slowed and eased. Grim determination washed over her as she finally swallowed down the last of her fear. Fear that if she spoke the words aloud that they would come true. That she would turn the tides of fate against their favor if she breathed life into the tumultuous thoughts rattling in her brain.  _But this is Abigail_ …  _her friend… her mother in so many ways that her own mother never could be… never thought to be._

"I worry for him, Abigail," Elizabeth admitted and Abigail's heart broke at the look of grief and sadness that sank into Elizabeth's delicate face, "I worry about the danger he is in, that it will hurt him in a way that he's not prepared for. I worry about the guilt I know he'll feel for being absent from all of this. I worry about the guilt I know he already feels in living so soon after we were married. I just… I love him so," her last words were little more than a whisper, "I know that this will change him in ways that neither of us fully understand. But I don't care. I don't care so long as he comes home and we can face all of it together."

"I know, Elizabeth," Abigail lifted Elizabeth's chin up, "And he will, you have to have faith that he'll come home. Just as he promised."

Elizabeth nodded furiously, fighting back the remaining tears she refused to let fall, "I know."

* * *

The snow was beginning to settle on around the door and leak inside the one room shanty. The fire was being stubborn as wind sneaked through the chimney pipe. Jack had stoked it and added fire to it more than once. Sweat was beginning to form over his brow and the back of his neck. The salty water dripped over his ear every now and again, leaving a sharp sting of pain that caused Jack to grit his teeth.

He walked back over to cot and lowered himself down, his back leaning against the wall as he continued to write replies to Elizabeth and the other letters, stopping every so often to fiddle with his wedding ring.

"God's tryna' make the dirty world clean," the prisoner whispered to himself.

Jack glanced up from his writing, his eyes narrowing at the man's words, "I'm sorry?"

The man, who'd been staring through the window at the darkening sky, turned his attention to Jack, fear creeping into his gaze, "I'm sorry, sir. It just slipped out."

Jack closed his eyes, fatigue and cold rolling over him like the wind over the snow drifts, "No… I didn't mean you couldn't speak. I just… what was that? What you said?"

The man swallowed hard, his eyes glazing over as all eyes do when lost in a sweet memory of sweeter times, "It's something my ma' told me when I was tyke," he stopped and chanced a look at Jack, afraid that he was saying too much.

Jack nodded slightly, "Please, go on."

The man, his voice gravely and deep, began, "I was maybe four or five. And it was snowing. I had never seen the snow before. So I asked my ma' what it was. So she told me. But that wasn't enough for me, sir," a smile began to work its way onto the prisoner's face as the memory, long ago buried down deep and safe from the reaches of time, became clearer, "I was a curious little thing."

Jack let free a quick grin, "Most children are."

The man nodded his head in agreement, laughing slightly, "You ain't wrong about that, sir. And I was no different. For every answer my mama gave about the snow, I had ten more. 'Why's it cold, ma'? Why ain't I ever seen it before? Where does it come from?'"

Jack, somehow, could picture it. A little boy, with wonder and curiosity in his eyes, following his mother around the house, underfoot and pestering and loved.

The man continued, laughter still evident in his voice though it was dying down, "And then I asked her, 'What's if for?'"

Jack watched as a deep sadness washed over the man in front of him… a bitter sadness that only comes when hope is lost and faith is destroyed, "And she… I remember she looked out the window at the snow… and she closed her eyes for a moment. It was so quiet," the man paused, quiet like this."

Silence fell between them as the snow kissed the earth.

"She looked down at me and picked me up to look out the window with her, and we watched the snow fall. I asked her again, quieter though, what it was for. And my ma', she just kept watching the snow. I was about to ask again when she whispered, "It's God tryna' make this dirty world clean again…. That was… huh… that was actually the last time I ever talked to my ma'."

The prisoner's words rang in Jack's ears. Flashes of his father, their last conversation, and the countless nights of hearing Tom and his mother cry cycled behind his eyes. Tears were threatening to form. He swallowed to tamp them down, "What's your name, sir?"

The man blanched at Jack's address, "Tremblay, sir. Jeremiah Tremblay."

"Mr. Tremblay," Jack began, curiosity rising within him, "how old are you?"

"I just turned fifty-four, sir."

"And where are you from?"

"Here and there. I lived in Owen Sound for a spell, Kitchener for many years. I was living in Hamilton up till now. But I was born in Sumter, South Carolina."

Jack nodded, silently calculating the time and age in his head. Suddenly, Jack's eyes widened, "You… you were…"

"I was born a slave, sir," Jeremiah stated simply, pain, but no bitterness in his voice, "My ma', she snuck me and my brother out over the fence of the plantation with some other runaways. She got caught by a few dogs… I…."

"I'm sorry, Jeremiah," Jack cut in and Jeremiah glanced up at the mountie, eyes glistening with tears and a silent, empty thanks.

"I did my best, young as I was, to look after my baby brother. Didn't always do the best job, but I tried, sir."

Jack lowered his gaze to the fire between them. His own brother swirling in his thoughts. Tom Thornton, the hellion of a boy that was finally becoming the man Jack always knew he could be. How many scrapes had they gotten into together? How many did Jack have to get Tom out of? How many times had Jack repeated his father's words to look after his younger brother no matter what?

"Have you… did you ever think about going back? I mean… the war ended a long time ago. The law,"

"The law can change in the blink of an eye… we both know that people take a lot longer to change."

Bile collected in Jack's throat, "I wish I could say that you're wrong."

Silence danced between them again.

"So what did you do, once you and your brother reached the border?"

"We stayed in Owen Sound for a while," Jeremiah began to recount his past and Jack listened in rapt attention.

"When I was old enough, I got work as an carpenter's apprentice at the Canada Clock Company, in Hamilton. It closed down in 84' but Mr. Pequegnat, one of the clockmakers, he had been importing watches and clocks from Germany for a while. So he opened up his own little shop and gave me a job as carpenter."

"The Arthur Pequegnat Clock Company, that's where you work?" Jack asked.

Jeremiah smiled, "Yes, sir. Well, it's where I worked up until this past year."

"What a small world," Jack said, "My sister-in-law sent my wife and I a Pequegnat clock as a wedding present. It's a beauty. The gold detailing around the face, the corinthian columns on either side…"

Jeremiah smiled, "Ahh, you got the Grecian Mantle Clock. Mighty fine clock. I designed that one myself."

Jack's eyes widened, "Are you joshing me?"

Jeremiah laughed, a real hearty laugh, "No sir! I designed that clock myself."

"Well I tip my hat to you, Mr. Tremblay," Jack chuckled as he said it.

"Much obliged, Captain."

The laughter died down and Jeremiah fell silent, allowing Jack to study him further.

Jeremiah seemed a quiet, gentle man. He put up no fight when Jack declared him under arrest. He made no attempt to flee as he was tied up and escorted to the shanty. He was good with his hands and capable of making something as simple as a wooden clock a work of art. A craftsman and an artist. And he had a brother, a younger brother that he loved and protected through horrible circumstances. The man in front of him was not a hardened criminal. He was lot like… well he was a lot like Jack himself.

_What was Jeremiah Tremblay doing here, so far up North?_

"Jeremiah," Jack's words came out slowly, a dead giveaway to the uncertainty behind them, "you seem like a good man. How… how did you…"

"My brother got caught up in all this," Jeremiah answered Jack's unasked question, "with Lao and his partner. Made a few bad bets in some boxing matches and couldn't pay them back. Lao threatened to kill him… and my sister-in-law and my nieces. So I went to Lao, begged him, asked him what I could do."

"Why didn't you go to the police?"

"I did."

"And they didn't do anything?"

"No, sir."

"But why?"

Jeremiah let out a humorless chuckle, "Sir… look at me. What am I?"

Jack's eyes narrowed in confusion. He looked Jeremiah up and down. Jack studied the man in front of him. His dark skin stuck out like a sore thumb against the white blankets of snow behind him, around him. The fire in front of him made his dark brown eyes shimmer like pieces of coal. He was a hulk of a man that had should have taken the strength of three men to detain instead of Jack's strength alone, "I don't under-,"

"I'm a poor, black man," Jeremiah's words were sharp, "I'm a nigger, sir. They didn't give a damn about what was wrong with me or my family. Hell, some of them I know for a fact are on Lao's payroll. Why, on God's green earth, would they do anything to mess with their cash cow?"

Jack sat in stunned silence.

"Anyway," Jeremiah continued his story, "Lao told me that he had some business up north, running product and such. Told me that if I could run product for him to his distributors, he'd consider my brother's debts paid up. Didn't know it was drugs until I got the first shipment up near Fort McMurray."

Jack's jaw clenched. He glanced between Jeremiah and the fire, contemplating and reworking an idea that Jeremiah could see forming in his head. He was a man with a conscience, Jeremiah couldn't deny him that. No, this Mountie was a good man, one of the few really good men he'd ever met. Jeremiah tried to ease his mind, "I broke the law, sir. I know that."

"Yes you did," Jack agreed, "But because we didn't do the right thing and listen and help you."

"You ain't the one that turned me away, sir," Jeremiah spoke softly.

"That's irrelevant," anger was laced in Jack's ever word, "You have just as much right to be protected as anyone else. You were trying to protect your family and you tried to do the right thing. It's our fault that you couldn't continue to do so. You're a human being," disdain dripped off Jack's tongue, "You deserve to be treated like one."

"You're probably one of the few who think so, Captain," Jeremiah whispered in quiet thanks.

"I shouldn't be," Jack whispered in sadness, "I'm sorry for that too."

Silence fell upon them, once again. The snow continued to fall. The fire crackled between them and several mounties began to file into their tents for the night. Jack and Jeremiah sat in companionable silence.

"Wait," Jack cut the quiet, "You said that you know mounties on Lao's payroll."

Jeremiah's eyes narrowed in confusion, "Yes, sir. I do."

A luminous grin began to work its way on Jack's wind whipped lips, "Do you remember their names?"

"Yes, I do, but I don't,"

"Jeremiah," Jack breathed out the man's name, "would you… if you could give me those names, if you could give me any information you have against Lao, I could help you."

"What do you mean?"

A small laugh left his lungs, "Jeremiah, if you help me take down Lao, I can guarantee you and your family protection. I can help you get a reduced sentence, maybe even get your charges dropped. But only if,"

"I'll do it, "Jeremiah answered. Hope glittered in his eyes. Resolve etched itself in his features, "I'll do it, sir."

Jack's smile brightened as he pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, setting his letter to Elizabeth aside, "Okay. Let's get started."

* * *

Elizabeth closed the door behind her as she walked out of the cafe and down to the gravel street. The sun had nearly set, leaving the wintry sky a plethora of dark oranges and pinks and blues. She could still hear the shouts of children at the pond as well as their parents shouting to get off the ice. A whistle blew in the distance, mixing in with the cacophony of a town fighting desperately to settle in for the night.

She walked slowly to the row house, content to take in the sights of children running home, skates dangling from around their necks and parents chasing after them. Shouts from inside the saloon told her that a fight was beginning to break out, but Elizabeth paid little mind to the men walking into and stumbling out of its doors.

_WHAP!_

Elizabeth felt a body slam into her, nearly knocking her to the ground, but a calloused hand reached out and caught her arm before she could react. Her gaze shifted over to a young Chinese man. His shoulders were hunched and the collar of his worn jacket flipped up to protect his neck from the cold. His face was hard but his eyes were soft, maybe even sad. His hand let go of her arm as if she had burned it.

"I'm so sorry, miss," his words were frantic, panic evident in his voice, "I didn't see you… please… shit."

His language startled her but it was the fear in his gaze, in his inability to look her in the eye that sent Elizabeth reeling, "It's okay. Than-"

"HEY!"

Elizabeth and the man looked over to the bellowing voice that stood on the saloon porch. He was tall, broad shouldered and bald. His eyes were glazed over and Elizabeth swore she could smell the alcohol on his breath from where she stood on the street. Several men stood behind him, equally drunk and not at all intimidating. No, there were the posse that always seemed to accompany a mindless brute.

"GET THE HELL OFF HER, YOU CHINK!"

"YOU TELL EM' WALT!"

"TEACH HIM A LESSON!"

"PUNCH HIS FACE IN!"

The Chinese man blanched, his entire body went rigid as he practically leaped away from Elizabeth, "I swear, I didn't do anything."

The drunken man stumbled over to them, anger in his gaze and violence on his mind, "Like hell you didn't! I should tear your arms off for even touching her!"

"KNOCK THE PAN FACE STRAIGHT BACK TO CHINA!"

"PUT EM' IN HIS PLACE!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!"

"Please," Elizabeth started, raising a hand up to stop the man from barreling towards them, "It was an accident. He was trying to keep me from falling."

The man didn't seem to hear her as he continued toward the Chinese man, "I've been waiting a long time for this, Joshua," he practically growled.

BANG! BANG!

Fear raced through her as Elizabeth searched frantically for the source of the gunshot. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins, only to settle when she saw Bill Avery with a smoking gun pointed up to the sky.

"I SAID THAT IS ENOUGH!" His voice echoed through the suddenly silent street.

The drunken man, Walt, she heard them call him, turned his attention from the man behind her and over to Bill. He looked Bill up and down, studying his stance and his weapon as if he were calculating his potential moves. It was impressive, Elizabeth thought, that a drunk man could be so stupid one second and so thoughtful and incisive the next.

"And who are you?" Walt challenged Bill.

The sheriff gave a glowering stare, "I'm the man who's going to through you in jail for the night if you don't leave those two alone. Might keep you for a couple days even… I'm sure you're foreman at the railroad would love that. It's grounds for dismissal, I think… getting thrown in jail for more than a day."

Even from the drunken recesses of his mind, Walt understood that he had no moves left to make. Check mate.

He turned back to Elizabeth and the Chinese man and pointed a finger at the latter, "Just you wait, Chang. This ain't over."

Walt's friends had walked over to him and began to pull him back inside the saloon, "It ain't over!"

Elizabeth took a deep breath to settle herself. She looked over her shoulder to check on the young man, Joshua, behind her. She was surprised to find Bill right beside him.

"Elizabeth," Bill started, his eyes squared away on Joshua's face, "is everything okay? Did this man hurt you?"

She shook her head furiously, "No, Bill. He was walking out of the alley and accidentally bumped into me. He caught me before I fell."

Bill held his gaze on Joshua for a moment longer before focusing on Elizabeth. Her chin was raised, determination and conviction in her gaze. Bill nodded, accepting her words, and turned back to Joshua.

"I think it's best if you went back to the railroad camps, son," Bill stated firmly. It wasn't up for debate and the young man didn't seem up for a fight. Instead, he nodded vigorously in agreement.

Bill gave a curt nod before walking up the porch and into the saloon. Elizabeth turned her attention to Joshua, "Are you okay?"

The look of shock and disbelief that flashed over Joshua's face caught her off guard. The young man shook his head yes and turned to leave without another word.

"Thank you, Joshua" Elizabeth said as he took his first step, "thank you for catching me."

"I'm sorry I ran into you," was all he said. Joshua was unsure if he should leave. Elizabeth was unsure if she should say anything else.

An awkward silence hung in the air.

"Well," Joshua said, "goodnight Miss…"  _dang it… what was her name?_

"Elizabeth," she supplied, "Elizabeth Thornton. I'm the school teacher."

Elizabeth offered her hand. Joshua took it hesitantly and shook it, "Jiahao.. I mean, Joshua.. Joshua Chang."

Elizabeth's brow furrowed in confusion, "Is it Jiahao or Joshua?"

"Both.. I mean, Jiahao is my real name but…" he stopped to gather his thoughts and settle his rapid heartbeat.  _Why was he still talking to this woman?_   _It really wasn't the smart thing to do…_ "but Joshua is easier to say."

"So the men with the railroad decided to call you Joshua?" Elizabeth wanted to kick herself.  _Quit with the question. Let the man be on his way!_

"No ma'am. I picked it. Joshua.. Joshua is my favorite character in the Bible you see… it's his name. What it means."

"Salvation," Elizabeth finished for him.

An honest to God smile graced Joshua's lips, just for a moment, "That's right. We all want salvation, yes? Redemption from the horrible things we've said and done… Aside from love, it is the one thing we all are seeking…. we're... we're the same that way…."

A sweet smile formed on Elizabeth's rosy lips, "That's very true, Joshua."

Another moment of silence fell upon them… this one sweeter than the last.

Elizabeth was the first one to break it.

"Well, Joshua Chang," they both chuckled slightly, "I should be heading home. Have a pleasant evening."

Joshua gave a slight bow and tilt of his head, a sign of respect and gratitude, "You as well Mrs. Thornton. Be safe on your way home."

With that Elizabeth began the short walk back to her home where Julie would surly be up and waiting to regale her with stories from her time skating at the pond with Jesse and Clara and half the children of Hope Valley as well as the latest gossip around the dress shop. And Joshua Chang watched her, confused by her kindness yet thankful for it all the same.

What a strange place… this, Hope Valley.

"Psst…" a whisper from the saloon alley, "Hey…Chang."

Joshua looked down the darkened walkway at the man standing in the shadows. Suddenly, the small pouch in his jacket pocket felt heavier. The paper money in his front pants pocket seemed to weight him down. But still, the man in the alley beckoned and Joshua answered, pulling the small pouch of white powder out and into the hands of the scraggly railroad worker. A few bills were shoved into his hand and Joshua quickly stuffed them with the rest of the money.

"Remember," Joshua whispered, "you didn't get this from me."

The man shook his head vigorously, "Yeah. Yeah I got it."

Joshua looked around nervously before stuffing his hands inside his pants pockets and walking back into the warmly lit main street….


	9. The Nights Are Getting Long

Elizabeth sat patiently on the bench that sat just outside the door of the infirmary, a gentle hand resting atop her expanding stomach. It was an unusually pleasant day, despite winter beginning only a few weeks ago. The temperature had risen, melting the pond and prematurely awakening the flowers and their blooms.  _Mean's we're in for a rough bit of weather,_ Abigail mumbled over her tea this afternoon,  _it wouldn't surprise me if we ended up getting hit with a blizzard._

Elizabeth breathed in, contentment washing over her as she smelled the newly defrosted earth and grass and trees. The pines smelled fresh and evergreen, the maples drenching the air with a syrupy smell that had awakened Elizabeth's ever growing appetite. If they  _were_  in for a rough winter, she was going to soak up these few days of reprieve from the bitter cold that seemed to hang over Hope Valley the past few weeks.

A gentle thump underneath her hand forced Elizabeth's gaze down to her stomach, a bright smile stretching across her ruby lips. The baby had been kicking feverishly as of late. At first, it started out as a gentle flutter underneath her ribs. It reminded Elizabeth how she felt whenever she drank champagne, the bubbles tickling her insides and the crisp, refreshing taste exhilarating and intoxicating all at once. She felt another kick underneath her palm. A soft, sweet giggle left her lips and a heady wave of love and fierce devotion flooded through her.

How was it possible to love someone so deeply without ever meeting them? How was it possible to want so much for one person that hadn't even entered the world? Elizabeth knew she would love any children she and Jack had. How could she not? But she wasn't prepared for just how deeply it run in her veins. She knew Jack felt the same way; he had echoed the sentiment in his last letter to her.

_Nothing could have prepared me for just how much I feel,_  he said. I _knew how nerve-wracking, how confusing and elating it was to love someone so unconditionally in loving you, Elizabeth. But to feel it all for someone I've never met… I thought I knew all the boundaries of myself, that I understood the limits of my heart. It_ _'_ _s extraordinary to have all those limits thrown out, to realize your love is inexhaustible. It's breathtaking._

_How can I ever thank you, Elizabeth? How can I ever repay the gift that you've given me? Is there any way to measure just how much I owe you? You have given me your heart and now a child…._

_Just come home,_ Elizabeth prayed,  _it would be enough if you just came home._

"Thanks, Doc," a gravely voice spoke as Elizabeth turned her attention to the infirmary door. The man in front of her was the same man that had been ready to beat the life out Joshua a few weeks before. His eyes were red, his pupils nearly the size of marbles as he squinted against the sunlight. His sniffed and rubbed a hand under his nose.

Carson gave him a curt nod, "Just let me know if it doesn't go away in a few days. Most likely, it's all just a reaction from the change in temperature or the premature blooms."

The man replied with a grunt, his gaze shifting from Carson to Elizabeth before stumbling off the porch to walk back down the road to the saloon. Elizabeth cast a look a Carson, his jaw set and eyes narrowed as he watched the man walk away. Something was off in his gaze, like he was searching through clues to solve a mystery, "Everything okay, Carson?"

He blinked, startled to find Elizabeth beside him even thought her appointment was clearly written on his calendar, "Elizabeth, sorry! Yes… everything's fine," Carson smiled sweetly at her as he gestured to the door, "Please come in. Let's see how and that baby are doing."

* * *

The sun burned brightly in the sky. It was, dare he even think it, warm. It was a welcome reprieve from the biting cold and bitter snow that seemed to fall forever from the gray, winter sky. But the warmth provided its own challenges. The snow had melted, leaving deep tracts of mud behind. The horses were having a hard time getting through it, leaving the men to dismount and pull the beasts through the worst parts of it.

Jack's unit, along with Fraser's, had been tracking a group of runners since their last checkpoint in Yellowknife. Rumor had it that Li Sòng, Xiong Lao's number two man, was with the runners. It wasn't Lao, but Jack was fairly confident that capturing Sòng could be quite fruitful in brining Lao and his drug runners to end. For several weeks, they had trailed just behind the runners, waiting for an opportune moment to attack and capture. For weeks they had traipsed about the cold snow and sopping earth and sticky mud. For weeks, Jack continued to pray and dream of home.

Water was becoming scarce this far west. The snow had been useful then, the bright white powder a nearly endless supply of hydration. But now the snow was gone and what few little creeks there were, were filled with the runoff of mud and sediments and unseeable imperfections that left the usually clear liquid a murky brown. Stagnate pools of water could be boiled to kill off any potential bacteria, but wood was required to build a fire, and Jack was beginning to think they had wandered into the only part of Canada that seemed to be void of trees.

But Jack wasn't worried about that at the moment.

"Easy boy," Jack whispered as Sergeant whinnied. He pet along the horse's neck, sweat soaking through its hair. Panic set into his deep brown eyes, "Easy boy."

They had found a small gathering of trees a few hours ago and the sound of trickling water had beckoned the parched Mounties. A small, clear creek had led to a glade with rabbits and a deer or two, an oasis in a frozen desert. But they had no idea how deep the mud was, how slippery the slope to the creek and the glade fell. Matty's horse had stumbled down the slick hill, hurting its ankle. The horse was limping, but nothing that a day of rest couldn't cure. Fraser's horse had fallen into a deep mud pit and, already weak without food and water, died from exhaustion after fighting to escape for thirty minutes.

Jack glanced down at Ouimet as the young Mountie tenderly pulled Sergeant's back left leg from the mud. The unmistakable sign of bone broken through flesh caused bile to rise up in Jack's throat. Ouimet seemed to turn green at the sight as he glanced up at Jack, "It's broken sir."

Jack's eyes closed painfully before nodding to Ouimet. Sergeant whinnied again, pain evident his cries. Jack's calloused, gentle hands stroked the mane of his oldest, constant friend. From the moment he had graduated from the NWMP Academy, Sergeant had been his. It was Sergeant that Jack had ridden to Hope Valley on. It was with Sergeant that Jack had given riding lessons to Elizabeth. It was Sergeant that had carried him across the godforsaken country of the Northern Territories. Jack hadn't even thought of this… the outcome that Sergeant might not make it back home even if he did.

Sergeant cried again. Weak and pitiful and so unlike the hearty neigh Jack often heard.

Another pitiful puff of air and another pitiful cry.

Jack's jaw set and his eyes shot open. Fierce grief and determination shining through them.

He couldn't let his friend suffer.

He pulled his pistol from his holster. He could see Matty, Shelby and a few men in Fraser's unit cast their gaze downwards. It made him sick.

Jack walked over to face Sergeant, the horse's head hanging low for a moment. And as Sergeant looked up at Jack, with fear and pain and… and trust, Jack wondered.

Jack wondered if his friend knew what was about to happen. If he knew that when Jack stroked his mane and whispered words of comfort, it was all a distraction, a lie to lull him into peaceful ignorance.

Jack wondered if Sergeant knew that the cold metal of Jack's pistol in between the horse's eyes would make such a loud sound when he pulled the trigger.

Jack wondered if Sergeant was afraid or thankful when the bullet pierced through his brain and the life in his eyes faded into oblivion.

Jack wondered if Sergeant would ever know how much it killed them both when the horse's broken body slumped down to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Jack wondered if he would ever know what had broken inside him as he put the beast out of it's misery.

Jack wondered.

* * *

"It looks like everything is coming along splendidly, Elizabeth," Carson grinned as he pulled the fetal stethoscope from Elizabeth's rounded belly. He rose from his chair and placed the instrument on the shelf next to his desk before jotting down several notes on his clipboard, "The baby's heartbeat is strong, and you've gained a healthy amount of weight."

Elizabeth smiled softly as Carson crossed the room and sat back down in the chair beside her. He gently grasped her wrist and placed two fingers on her pulse point.

"Have you had any morning sickness," Carson asked as he glanced down at his wrist watch, watching closely at the time.

Elizabeth shook her head, "No. No, I haven't been sick for several weeks now."

"Excellent," Carson mumbled, his eyes narrowing at his watch. He rose from his chair again, jotting more notes down onto his clipboard before reaching up into one of the higher cabinet doors. Elizabeth watched as he pulled down a small black tin box with two metal clasps on either side.

"Elizabeth," Carson began in a tone that Elizabeth could only label as a teacher voice. She was about to be given a lesson and for some reason, it unsettled her, "this is called a sphygmomanometer. It is a device used to measure blood pressure. Have you ever seen one?"

"No," Elizabeth answered quickly, eying the tin box as Carson opened it. Inside, a rather large dial sat in the center, connected on either side with rubber tubing to a large wrap of cloth and what looked like a small pump, "Why do you need to measure my blood pressure?"

Carson smiled weakly. He wasn't surprised by the question. As a teacher, Elizabeth's job was to foster learning and curiosity in her students. It was only natural that she be inquisitive and insightful herself. But her question hung in the air and the concern he had been trying to hide seemed to creep back into his consciousness.

"Pregnant women can often develop a condition called preeclampsia," Carson explained, "if left untreated, it will cause impaired liver function, kidney dysfunction, swelling, or shortness of breath due to fluid in the lungs. If it turns into eclampsia, the blood won't clot and seizures could occur during labor."

Elizabeth blanched, "Carson," she couldn't finish her thought.

Carson quickly rallied to assuage her fear, "I don't want you to worry, Elizabeth. Elevated blood pressure isn't abnormal in pregnant women. And I've known plenty of women who have had preeclampsia and treated it properly, that have delivered  _multiple_  healthy babies. But you're roughly 26 weeks along, which is right about when preeclampsia symptoms begin to surface. Taking your blood pressure will give us a good jumping off point to monitor your vitals throughout the remainder of the pregnancy."

It felt as if a stone had dropped behind her ribs and settled poorly in her stomach. Both hands involuntarily moved to shield the baby sitting just beneath her skin. Elizabeth knew that childbirth wasn't easy. She knew that there were numerous complications that could arise whilst delivering a child. But to have her own body… how was she supposed to protect her child from her own body?

"What do we do if I have preeclampsia?" Elizabeth's tone was detached and clinical.

"If you do have preeclampsia, we will need to monitor your diet closely. Calcium is important, so eating things like kale and oranges or drinking milk would be helpful. I would also prescribe magnesium sulfate supplements. But first," Carson continued calmly, "we are going to take your blood pressure."

Elizabeth nodded her permission.

Carson gave a quick, reassuring grin before placing the cuff on her upper arm, "I'm also going to have you provide a urine sample to check for proteins in your urine. That's the clearest indicator of preeclampsia."

Elizabeth blanched again, "Carson…"

"Elizabeth," Carson began, "you are an educator and I am doctor. We both know that there is nothing improper or indecent about genuine medical practice. Please don't become uncomfortable about a clinical practice as simple and non intrusive as a urine test."

Any words she might have said fell silent behind her teeth. Carson glanced up at her before returning his gaze to the dial's needle as he began to pump air through the cuff. Elizabeth stared at the blank wall in front of her, ignoring the slight sting beginning to work its way around the skin where the cuff was wrapped around her arm.

"I could have Faith examine the sample if that would make you feel more comfortable," Carson offered peacefully.

Elizabeth's gaze shot to Carson, who's smile was kind and eyes slightly teasing.

She had no brothers growing up. No one to tease and annoy her the way only brothers can. But Elizabeth imagined that if she had, they would look at her as Carson was looking at her now: fully aware of how ridiculous she was being and refusing to let her get away with it, but comforting and accommodating to her absurdity all the same.

"Don't patronize me, Carson," Elizabeth challenged, the mirth and annoyance of a sister dancing in her gaze.

Carson chuckled, "I wouldn't dream of it, Mrs. Thornton. Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

They had set up camp as far away from the dead horses as possible and still remain in the shelter of the glade. Ouimet and Shelby had gathered brush and branches to start a few fires. Fraser and what was left of his unit, Brady and Dawson and Reynolds had built up their tents while Jack, Matty, and Jeremiah laid traps for the small game they had seen prancing in the glade.

Several rabbits and a few squirrels they had shot down had made for the best dinner they'd had in two months, thought it did little to quell their appetites. Jack couldn't remember the last time he had stuffed himself full of any meal. The lingering memories of the taste of Abigail's venison stew and Elizabeth's shepherds pie danced on his tastebuds and tormented his grumbling stomach. He promised God that he would never complain again if Elizabeth burned another dish as long as he lived.

Once dinner had been eaten, Brady and Dawson patrolled the woods ahead of the small group of Mounties. They found another dead horse and two dead bodies of the men they had been chasing for three weeks. Dehydration was the consensus for cause of death.

Jack sent up another silent prayer thanking God for getting them to the glade when they had.

"That was their last horse," Ouimet commented, "They only had one horse left. They can't be that far now."

"Which means we'll need to leave at first light," Jack had reasoned, "and we'll need to have patrols around the clock. They probably aren't too far ahead of us, assuming they've even left the area."

"Why wouldn't they," Fraser questioned.

Jack's eyebrows cocked, "We've been traveling for weeks in the snow and mud with little to know head cover and even less water and game to hunt. Do you want to leave tomorrow morning, or would you prefer to rest and recoup for a few days?"

Fraser swallowed his embarrassment. Jack gave a curt nod before repeating himself, "Patrols. I want three men rotating every three hours. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Fraser mumbled under his breath.

Jack practically fell onto the ground as he sat next to Jeremiah by the fire after finishing his patrol.

"All's quiet," Jack muttered as he crossed his arms to fight off the cold that was beginning to settle back into the glade.

"I noticed some coyote tracks just East of us," Jeremiah responded, "I don't think they'll bother us though."

"Not when they have horse meat half a mile South," Jack answered bitterly.

Jeremiah and Matty glanced at one another as silence settled over the three men.

For several long minutes, the sounds of the crackling fire and the snores of the sleeping Mounties were all that echoed in the tranquil clearing. Every so often, the hoot of an owl or the scurry of a rabbit would cut into the syncopated rhythm of the world around them. Jeremiah watched Jack closely, worried for the young man that seemed to be shrinking deeper into himself with each passing moment. He opened his mouth to speak when Matty broke the silence.

"I had to put a dog down once," Matty's voice was quiet over the crackling sounds of the meager fire.

Jack and Jeremiah both turned their attention to the young Mountie, who's own gaze was lost in the glowing embers of the flames as the hot swirling air above it twisted and distorted his image. Jack watched as Matty sank further into his memories, deep and old and buried in the recesses of his mind. Silence engulfed them.

"He was this beautiful Shetland sheepdog," Matty's voice was wistful, his eyes childlike as he continued, "My pa bought him a few years after I was born to help with the herd. Named him Edison," Matty chuckled at that.

Jeremiah gave him a weak smile. Jack continued to watch and listen.

"That dog followed me everywhere," Matty took a breath, "walked with me to school and then ran back to the farm. And when I was done with school, Eddie was sitting just outside, waiting for me. He'd follow me around the farm while I was doing my chores. He slept at the foot of me and my brother's bed. Drove my pa crazy," Matty chuckled again, "the fact that he was a worthless sheep dog. But by God, I loved Eddie. And Eddie loved me."

Jack couldn't help but think of Rip. The basset hound's droopy ears and short stubby legs following him around at all hours of the night. Wherever Jack went, Rip longed to go. It had shocked Jack when Rip began to gravitate towards Elizabeth so soon after they had married. No longer was Jack the apple of Rip's eye. He suspected it had something to do with the bits of biscuit that Elizabeth would keep in the pockets of her coats and aprons.

It almost hurt to think of Elizabeth now, as if thinking of her brought her to this dreadful place. She didn't belong here. Jack pushed her from his mind and swallowed the bile collecting in his throat, "What happened to him?"

Matty's breath caught and tears welled up in his eyes, the chocolate brown of his irises twinkling in the hazy light of the fire. His Adam's apple bobbed several times in his throat and his jaw twitched.

"We were in the woods one Sunday. I would do that a lot after church… just walk in the woods….a lynx had been following us. One minute Eddie and I are walking in the woods and the next minute a lynx jumps on him and starts clawing and nipping at him. I tried to reach my hand in and pull it off him and the damned thing tried to bite me. Eddie jumped in front of me and got bit right on the neck. I got a branch and started beating the thing and it finally gave up and ran off. But Eddie…I was only a kid and knew that he wasn't gonna be okay."

Jeremiah and Jack sat in silence, giving Matty time to collect himself. Matty took another breath, silent tears rolling down his face, "I carried him back to the house and my Pa… I swear he knew something was wrong before I even go to the house. He was waiting for me… he was waiting for me out by the barn when I brought Eddie home. We made him comfortable in the hay… I pet him while he whimpered and when my dad brought the gun out… He looked at me and told me that I needed to put him out of his misery. He put the gun in my hand and made me pull the trigger."

Matty finally looked up at Jack and Jeremiah, his eyes dark like two pieces of coal, death and destruction swirling in his gaze, "I told him it wasn't right, killing him for protecting me. And my pa… he said it was putting him out of his misery. Ending his suffering…. All I remember is how scared Eddie looked when I pulled the trigger."

Jack eyes slammed shut at Matty's last words. A weight had settled in his chest, something he had yet to understand or given a name too… something different than grief or anger. It was an ache in his bones that was getting stronger and refusing to leave… a tiredness he had never known. He longed to be home and yet… he worried. He worried that the blood and the mud on his hands and face would never be washed off. That whatever was settling in his chest would find it's way into his heart. He worried about the kind of man he would be when he returned home… if he returned home at all.

"Be thankful it was only a dog," Jeremiah's deep gravely voice cut through the quiet.

Jack and Matty looked over at their prisoner-turned-partner. The older man's head hung low, his eyes filled with the ghost of some emotion that Jack couldn't name, but was beginning to understand all too well.

The three men sat in silence as the fire burned.

* * *

Elizabeth bolted upright, the thick flannel sheets pooling at her waist. Loose strands of hair from her braid clung to the back of her slender neck as sweat dripped from her forehead and brow. The fire in the bedroom had begun to die down, but the embers still gave a luminous glow.

She fought to calm her breathing and settle her nerves as her lips and throat parched at her excessive inhale and exhale. Her heart fluttered in her chest and the baby beneath the skin of her belly fluttered with it.  _Breathe,_  she thought,  _breathe slowly. It was just a dream._

_No,_  she thought to herself,  _it was just a nightmare._

She took in another deep breath.  _He's fine. You would know if something had happened. You would know._

Elizabeth closed her eyes at the nightmare flashing through her mind. The gunfire and the snow and the man slumped on horse with blood pooling from his chest as a dark figure rode just behind him. No, she would know… she would feel it in her bones if Jack had been hurt…. but still. Something was wrong. She couldn't explain it but the blood in her veins seemed to run cold at the thought of him.

"Beth, are you alright?"

Elizabeth tore her gaze from the fire to find Julie standing just inside her room. Her sister was still half asleep, the groggy way she talked and the droopy eyelids gave her away. But concern was laced in her words, compassion burning soft and warm in her sleepy gaze. Elizabeth gave her a weak smile.

"I just… I had a nightmare."

Julie frowned at Elizabeth's admission. She trudged over to the bed before plopping herself down onto the mattress, "About what Dr. Carson told you today?"

Elizabeth sighed, "No…. no. It was about Jack."

Julie's eyes shot open, wide awake and alert. She turned to lay against the pillows on the other side of the bed before pulling her sister close. Elizabeth followed willingly, laying her head on her sister's shoulder while Julie began to pet the top of Elizabeth's hair.

"He's going to come home, Beth," Julie's voice was laced with conviction and assurance. It did nothing to comfort Elizabeth.

"He's coming home," Julie repeated.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and prayed.

* * *

A man in a fine coat and bowler hat steps off the train and makes his way to the railroad shanties at the edge of town….


	10. I've Been Seeing Angels

The brisk winter wind bit into his skin through the holes of the threadbare jacket he had wrapped himself in. Laughter and music danced out of the saloon and into the streets. He would have been annoyed at the cheery dispositions of the townspeople walking through the saloon doors, but the sweet school teacher had given him a gentle smile as she walked past him. The school teacher, one of the few people, including her sister and the cafe owner, that had treated him with any ounce of kindness…. he just couldn’t find the energy to dislike or disapprove of them anymore.

The muddy ground surrounding the meager barracks for the Canadian Trunk Line railroad workers had hardened and frozen with the sudden temperature drop this morning. The crunch of gravel under his boots and the gentle thud of his soles on the cold, hard ground created a soft melody with the wind swirling around him. A storm was coming, that much was certain.

Angry, drunken shouts greeted Joshua Chang as he finally made it back to his barracks camp. Men walked around the shanty houses they all called home, some of them laughing together, others brawling in the middle of the streets. Joshua paid them no mind. He simply wanted to get into this little hut, start a fire in the even smaller fire pit, and go to sleep. 

His heart stopped when he realized a fire had already been started and a young man with a nice suite and perfectly slicked back hair was sitting on his lumpy cot, the man’s bowler hat resting at the foot of Joshua’s bed.  

Fear shot through him as Joshua noticed the letter in the man’s hand. Joshua had yet to burn his last correspondence with C.K.  

“I thought,” the young man spoke calmly, though annoyance and anger saturated his every word, “that I had made it clear how important it is to burn any and all communications between us.”

Charles Kensington glared at Joshua as he walked over to the small fire in the center of the shanty and threw the letter into the orange and yellow flames. Joshua watched as the letter curled and charred and the embers filtered up through the hole in the center of the ceiling that let the fire’s smoke escape. 

“Yes sir,” Joshua’s words were timid and measured, unsure of how to interact with the man in front of him, “I’m sorry for…”

“If you cannot follow simple instructions, Mr. Chang,” Charles cut Joshua off, completely uninterested in what excuses the young man could muster, “Perhaps there is no further need for my partner and I to uphold our end of the bargain.

Joshua’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. Anger seared through him, a vision of punching Charles right in his perfectly square jaw flashing behind his eyes. Joshua clenched his fist in anticipation when another vision, this one much more precious flooded his vision. A little girl with curious brown eyes, a soft, rounded face and gapped tooth grin dancing in the rain and splashing in the puddles forming on the poorly kept roads in between dilapidated shops and crumbling tenement homes.  

Joshua went pale at the thought of her. Charles seemed to notice. A hateful chuckle escaped Charles mouth and a sense of dread flowed in Joshua’s veins.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Chang,” Charles’ voice was calm and polished and so perfectly measured that it made Joshua want to scream, “your younger sister is perfectly safe. So long as you follow your instructions and adhere to our agreement.” 

Joshua swallowed hard, his spit rubbing against his throat like sandpaper. He watched as Charles walked a few steps, making the appearance of looking around the poorly built shanty that Joshua called home. 

“There is a new shipment coming in from Union City,” Charles explained as he looked at the few objects on the splintered crate Joshua used as a bedside table. A tobacco pipe, sewing needles and thread, and a tattered Bible. His hand moved to touch the worn leather, only to pull back suddenly, as if the material would burn his skin like fire would the letter he had disposed of minutes ago. 

Charles looked back up to Joshua, “Half of the shipment will go on to Yellowknife. Several runners will transport it to a small outpost warehouse up North. The other half stays here for you to sell. And not just to the railroad workers.”

Joshua’s brow raised at Charles last comment, “What?”

Charles sat down on Joshua’s cot, crossing his right leg over, looking regal and dignified in the ramshackle shanty while discussing his drug trade with the Chinese railroad worker in front of him, “We are looking to expand our cliental, Mr. Chang. You will begin selling to the good people of Hope Valley as well as your… railroad rabble.”

“You do realize there is a sheriff and a Mountie here, yes? The one who very nearly caught you and Lao red-handed!” Joshua exclaimed, “Not to mention the fact that another Mountie actually lives here and is married to the school teacher,” Joshua watched, confused, as Charles stiffened and grimaced at the mention of the school teacher. But he carried on, “I’m risking my neck enough as it is just selling out here with the workers.”

Charles’ jaw clenched and he stood up quickly, striding over to Joshua, towering over him. His fists curled around Joshua’s coat lapels and pulled the young man close enough that he could feel Charles breath on his skin, “Don’t you worry about either of those Mounties. One is as incompetent as he is arrogant. The only reason he found out anything about our operation in Hamilton and Cape Fullerton is because of the sloppy work of two employees that have been taken care of.”

Charles shoved Joshua back, his nostrils flared and his perfectly coiffed hair now falling in front of his eyes, “And the one in the Northern Territories will be dealt with but Lao personally. You do your job, Mr. Chang. Follow my instructions. Or your sister will be the one to pay for your incompetence.”

With that, Charles picked up his bowler hat, ran his hand through his hair, and place his hat perfectly atop his head, “Goodnight Mr. Chang. I expect bi-weekly reports.”

Charles exited the shanty and Joshua was left alone with his thoughts echoing with the crackling of the small fire, still burning brightly.

* * *

 She couldn’t get the taste of that horrible cake out of her mouth. It was terribly kind of Cody and Robert but the boys simply couldn’t bake. Elizabeth smiled softly as she remembered their ecstatic faces as she took a bite of their attempted chocolate cake. She had a feeling it was a glimpse into the joys of motherhood, the innate desire to ensure those smiling faces never fell. Jack would have laughed at the sight.

Elizabeth’s grin faltered, her nightmare racing through her mind again….J _ack’s body slumped on a horse that was not his own, a tall, broad man trying desperately to hold her husband upright as he nursed a nasty looking shoulder wound…. Jack’s lips were parched, cracking in places, his face thin and his skin a sickly pale white. The man trying his best to gently pull Jack from the horse, only to nearly drop him as Carson and Lee came running to help…._ Elizabeth closed her eyes fighting a well of tears.

A tiny foot kicked through her stomach. 

The sounds of laughter and music echoed in Elizabeth’s ears as she and Abigail left the saloon. The air was chilly, her breath coming out in little puffs of smoke. Abigail giggled beside her as Mr. Yost’s singing, so heartfelt yet so off key, managed to cut through the thick doors of the saloon and into the nearly deserted street. Elizabeth grinned at the sound. 

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Elizabeth began, smiling from ear to ear, “I think I left it in my desk.”

“Alright,” Abigail was still smiling when she Elizabeth glanced over to see a red Mountie serge cloaked in the darkness. 

“Jack,” Elizabeth whispered his name like a prayer, a brilliant smile forming on her lips. She felt the baby kick rapidly, as if sensing its mother’s excitement. 

Abigail followed the young woman’s gaze. Her eyes narrowed at the figure as he dismounted his horse.

Elizabeth’s smile fell as she took in the figure. He wasn’t as tall or as broad as Jack. His hair was parted on the wrong side and he fell from his horse in an ungraceful manner, something Jack would never do. The breath was ripped from her lungs as the cold night air settled around Elizabeth, “I’m sorry, I thought you were… I thought you were someone else.”

The Mountie pulled his horse as he walked towards them. Elizabeth watched as his adams apple bobbed rapidly. He refused to look either of them in the eye as removed his Stetson as he spoke.

“I’m looking for Elizabeth Thornton.”

Abigail’s blood ran cold. A dreadful sense of familiarity settled in her bones. It couldn’t be… _Dear God… please. Please don’t do this to them_. Abigail prayed silently that she was wrong, that Jack was fine. She began to reach for Elizabeth anyway.

Elizabeth refused to acknowledge Abigail beside her. Her world was focused solely on the young man in front of her. Her world was hanging by a thread on his answer to the question burning her tongue, “Is he hurt?” 

“No ma’am,” was his solemn reply.

Elizabeth could feel the baby kicking frantically as panic settled underneath her ribs. Dread settled in her veins. Abigail’s gentle hands on her arm seared her skin. Desperation saturated every word in her plea. “Please just… tell me he’s alive.”

The Mountie’s head fell as he gripped his Stetson closer to his chest, “I’m sorry,”

Elizabeth couldn’t hear the rest of his useless apology. A cry ripped from her throat and Abigail’s arms wrapped around her as she fell to the ground. 

* * *

Elizabeth gasped as she bolted upright in bed. Sweat soaked the rumpled bed sheets of the feather mattress. Tears fell silently from her face as she tried to settle her breathing. The thump of tiny feet underneath her ribs comforted and terrified her. Elizabeth’s eyes shut tightly, trying desperately to erase the images just behind her eyelids. It wasn’t working. 

Elizabeth dared to look at Jack’s side of the bed, silently begging God that he would be there,. HIs hair would be rustled from sleep and his chest would be rising and falling evenly as he slept soundly. She knew he wouldn’t be. That his side of the bed would be occupied by her sister. She knew that Julie would be there, sleeping deeply after coming in and lulling Elizabeth back to sleep only a few a hours ago. Except she wasn’t. Confusion clouded Elizabeth’s sleepy mind.

“Beth?”

That voice…

Fresh tears began to form in Elizabeth’s stormy blue eyes. Relief flooded through her as a pair of gentle, reassuring arms wrapped around her. The scent of lavender and vanilla flooded her nose and melted the ice settling around her heart. Elizabeth let out a choked sob as Grace Thatcher hugged her daughter tight to her breast. Elizabeth clawed at the soft cotton of her mother’s travel clothes. 

“Oh my dear,” Grace’s voice was soft and velvety, the weight of wisdom and care and compassion hanging on every word, “Elizabeth, my darling, what is wrong?”

Elizabeth vaguely heard the soft padding of bare feet on the hardwood floor but paid no mind to it. How was her mother here? What time was it? Thank God it was only a dream.

“Mother,” Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the sight of the woman in front of her, “How… how are you here?”

Grace tucked a few errant strands that had fallen from Elizabeth’s braid just behind her Elizabeth’’s ear. She took in the sight of her middle daughter. Elizabeth’s eyes dance in confusion and relief. Clouds of grey and blue threatened a flood. Pupils dilated in fear and uncertainty. Full, black eyelashes were wet with tears and the sight broke Grace’s heart. A sudden flash of anger towards Jack Thornton, unwarranted as it was, burned through her. Her daughter was alone, with child no less, and he was off in God knows where doing God knows what. Shame flooded through her next. _It’s not his fault,_ Grace berated herself. _It’s no one’s fault_. 

“Don’t you worry about that now, dear one,” Grace’s maternal timbre washed over Elizabeth and settled the rapid beating of her heart, “Right now, I need you to calm down, just a bit. This kind of stress isn’t good for you or the baby.”

She stroked Elizabeth’s slightly rounded cheek and placed her other hand on her daughter’s swelling stomach. Grace could feel the steady kick of her grandchild underneath her soft, weathered hand, “With a kick that strong,” Grace whispered, hoping to ease the tension in Elizabeth’s shoulders, “it must be a girl. Only Thatcher girls kick that hard.”

Elizabeth attempted to laugh, but it caught in her throat, morphing into a horrid sob. The memory came rushing back so quickly it knocked the wind right out of her.

_Sunlight was coming in through the window just behind him. The ethereal glow around him made Jack look like an angel; a glorious angel meant just for her, forever. Warmth, desire, and an unexplainable giddiness rushed through her as his tender, calloused hand traced down her naked spine. Elizabeth giggled._

_Jack’s grin was wicked as he pulled her closer so her chest was flush against his, “Are you ticklish?”_

_Elizabeth continued to giggle as she shook her head, “No. I’m just so… so indescribably happy,” she smiled brightly as her hand found its way up to his stubbly cheek. Elizabeth’s nails caught on the whiskers that had grown in overnight. A low growl settled in Jack’s chest as Elizabeth’s hand moved to card through his disheveled hair. She began to play with the cowlick at the back of his head, twirling it with her fingers. She watched as Jack’s gaze glazed over into a dreamy stare._

_“What?” Elizabeth laughed after a few moments of Jack’s quiet gaze._

  _Jack smiled shyly, and it took everything in Elizabeth not to kiss the grin off his full lips._

_“I want a little girl, just like you. I want to look into her eyes and just feel my heart shatter when I see your spirit in her little eyes.”_

_She would never get used to this, the complete vulnerability in his gaze, the absolute trust he had in her to hold his heart. Elizabeth had read book after book containing the greatest love stories put on paper. She had hidden them in her tender heart, convinced that they were the measuring stick to any suitor or beau that attempted to win her heart. She had believed, for so long, that love was grand moments, powerful declarations and heroic deeds. How foolish she had been._

_Love grew slowly in the quiet moments._

_Elizabeth’s love for Jack had surprised her, sneaking up on her so suddenly that she had run back to Hamilton to get away from it. She burrowed back into her old life, certain that the flutter in her heart at the mere mention of Jack’s name would dissipate. And when it didn’t, and when everything in Hamilton of all places reminded Elizabeth of Jack, she understood that there was no running from it. That there was nothing to do but embrace it._

_And Jack had been there, waiting patiently for Elizabeth to discover what he had known for some time. They were destined for one another, to build a life together. And though their marriage was just beginning, Elizabeth couldn’t help but picture children with deep, hazel eyes and dark brown hair with cowlicks in the back. A vision of a little boy running through a field with Rip chasing behind him, the cackle of the imaginary child echoed by the chuckle of his father, running just behind him._

_“What if we have a boy,” Elizabeth asked teasingly._  

_Jack’s brow furrowed in concentration, his voice even and serious, “We’ll pawn him off to Lee and Rosie. Then try again.”_

_Elizabeth cackled as Jack smiled at his own joke, “I don’t think so,” she began, “none of my children are allowed to be pawned.”_

_Jack pulled Elizabeth in for a kiss, her soft, full lips pliant under his mouth. A dainty sigh echoed in the back of her throat and Jack’s blood began to race. He loved when she made that sound. He pulled back just a moment and nearly giggled himself at the look of confusion and annoyance at his breaking off the kiss on Elizabeth’s face._

_“I promise you, Mrs. Thornton,” Jack’s voice was low and rich and warm, like cinnamon tea on a cold autumn evening, “We will have an entire little clan of Thornton babies.”_

_His heart skipped a beat as Elizabeth’s eyelids lowered and she bit her lip teasingly, “Promises are well and good, Sergeant Thornton,” had she always said his name like that, “But I prefer a man of action.”_

  _Jack kissed the grin off her face as he rolled on top of her…._

“He should be here for this, Mother,” Elizabeth cried out, “He deserves to be here for all of this.”

“Hush now, child,” Grace’s gently stroked Elizabeth’s back while she cried into her mother’s neck. The scent of lavender and vanilla washed over her again, “Deep breaths, Beth. Deep breaths.”

Elizabeth followed her mother’s instruction, her mother’s voice wrapping her up in a warm blanket as exhaustion washed over her. 

* * *

The tea kettle screamed on the stove top while Julie pulled to cups down from the cupboard. She moved the sugar bowl over to the center of the small dining table along with the cream dish.

“That’s the fourth time this week she’s had a nightmare,” Julie admitted tiredly as she stared deep into her cup of tea, warm and welcoming between her delicate hands. She swallowed as the words forming behind her teeth practically burned her mouth.

“And there haven’t been any letters from Jack for six weeks,” Julie whispered.

Grace closed her eyes briefly, letting her youngest daughter’s words sink in, “How often does he write?”

Julie drew a sip from her cup before answering, “She usually gets two or three letters every three weeks. This is the longest she’s gone without any news from anyone. I just…” Julie stopped and Grace watched as tears formed in her daughter’s eyes, “She’s always been so strong, Mother. Beth has always been the voice of reason and to see her like this… I can’t fix it for her.”

It amazed Grace to see how much Julie had changed over the past two years. No… not changed… blossomed.

Julie Thatcher had always had a tender heart, but she no longer wore it on her sleeve. It was open still, and freely given to those who deserved it. But it was wiser, no longer prone to jump into the hands of anyone and everyone who so much as chanced a glance. Julie’s spirit, was still imaginative, creative, and she would often have her head in the clouds. But Julie was steady now, able to reign in the frantic energy that had once made her so flighty and inconsistent. Grace Thatcher’s youngest daughter had become more of herself, had grown into the woman she was always meant to be.

Grace stretched her silky had out to hold onto Julie’s. Her youngest daughter looked across the table, desperation and a cry for help swimming in her eyes. 

“You’re right,” was all Grace could say, “We can’t make this go away. All we can do is be here for Beth, help her keep faith that Jack will come home. And we can only pray that he will….”

Julie nodded before she took another sip of tea. 

A gentle silence fell between them as the mantle clock ticked in the background… until Julie broke it.

“Not that I’m not thrilled to see you, Mother,” Julie began, a quizzical look etched on her brow, “but what are you doing here? I thought Father was coming.” 

Grace smiled at her daughter’s curiosity, “I was actually the surprise your father mentioned in his last letter. I’m staying for the month to help you with the wedding and help Beth prepare for the baby and finishing up the house,” Grace took another sip of tea, “Your father was supposed to come with me but there was a problem with several trading vessels and he’s been tied up in ledgers and import agents.”

“You traveled from Hamilton to Hope Valley on your own?” Julie’s eyes widened at the thought, “I would never have believed it.”

A hearty, yet quiet laugh erupted from Grace’s lips, “I didn’t, I’m afraid. No,” Grace took another sip of tea, “Charles accompanied me. He’s been meaning to come out to discuss new shipping contracts with Mr. Coulter for several months now. He’ll be staying at the saloon for the next few days before returning to Hamilton.”

Julie went quiet at the mention of Charles Kensington. 

She’d never been overly fond of Charles, even when they were children. He followed Beth too closely, possessively even. There was an arrogance that permeated around him from a young age and Julie was only too happy when Beth had rejected his proposal so long ago. The nerve of the man to propose to her sister when she was so clearly in love with Jack aggravated Julie to no end. 

“And how is Charles,” Julie asked politely, good breading and years of etiquette coaching forcing the question from her tongue.

Grace sighed deeply, suddenly wishing her tea to turn into a Hot Toddy, “Insufferable to be honest.”

Julie nearly spit out her tea at Grace’s confession, “Why?”

“Ever since Beth and Jack married he’s been so… aggravating. He’s mopey and quick tempered and he’s constantly pestering your father and I for news about Beth and Jack. Your father has nearly fired him twice and I honestly wish he had after last time.”

“What happened last time?” Julie pushed for further details. She nearly fainted when she saw her mother, _the_ Grace Thatcher, rolled her eyes.

“He had the nerve to tell your father that shouldn’t have come back to Hamilton without Beth! That he should have forced their marriage to be annulled and dragged her onto the train back to civilization and appropriate society.”

“No he did not!” Julie’s voice rose in disgust and disbelief.

“Yes he did,” Grace mumbled, “I swear, Julie, the only reason your father didn’t fire Charles then and there was because of all of this import agency nonsense. He couldn’t come to Hope Valley to negotiate with Mr. Coulter and he didn’t trust Charles to deal with the import agents and auditors to go over the ledgers.”

Julie let out a humorless chuckle, “Well hopefully when Charles gets back to Hamilton, Father will wash his hands of it all.”

Grace nodded, “I hope you’re right. You know…” Grace started, “It’s funny to think about how much has changed this past year.”

Julie’s brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”

Grace looked down into her tea cup, gathering her thoughts as she stared into the creamy liquid, “If you had told me that I would one day find the mere thought of Charles repulsive I would have called you mad. That your father would be defending Jack and arguing with Charles over every little thing… That you would be happily engaged with a full time position at a dress shop…I would have thought the world had turned upside down…. It’s amazing how much things can change is so short a time.”

“And for the better,” Julie added.

Grace nodded, “And for the better.” 

* * *

His teeth chattered violently as the wind ripped through the thinning tree line. The thick collar of his navy coat blocked his bare neck from the vicious winter air. Snow was beginning to fall again, the white powder already collecting on the brim of his hat, catching on to the hair of his thickening beard, and accumulating on the frozen ground. 

The sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, the bright yellows and oranges melting in the sky giving off the smallest amounts of illumination to the ramshackle huts in front of him. 

“I count five men,” Fraser declared quietly as his brown eyes scanned the dimly lit terrain. 

“There’s nine guarding the perimeter,” Jack corrected the Mountie sergeant under his breath, careful to make too much noise lest one of the perimeter guards catch wind of him and the rest of the unit hiding within the tree line. 

“Plus the three guarding the center shack,” Matty remarked, “that makes twelve.”

Fraser’s jaw clenched and Jack could have sworn he saw the Mountie sergeant roll his eyes at Mattie’s rebuttal. It made him what to walk over to Fraser and punch him square in the jaw.

Jack was a patient man and slow to anger, but Fraser’s arrogance was quickly eating away at Captain Thornton’s easy temperament. Pride lead to rash actions to prove oneself. Rash actions lead to poorly thought out strategy which almost always meant dead or injured Mounties. And Fraser’s pride had already cost them several good, strong young men. 

“Lao’s always ready for a fight,” Jeremiah added, “he and the men inside with him will be armed. You can bet on that.”

“Assuming he’s even here,” Fraser mumbled under his breath.

Jack fought every impulse to roll his eyes and instead glanced over to Fraser, “We’ve been tracking this party for over a week. Shelby and Dawson confirmed that the Chinese man with them was Lao based on Mountie descriptions. And Jeremiah has assured us that this is the only outpost left for them. It’s more likely than not that it is Lao with them and if that’s true… if that’s true we’ll capture him and go home.”

It nearly took the breath out of him to mutter those last few words… _we can go home_. A chill, a pleasant one, ran through Jack as an emotion he had not felt in months settled in his bones… hope. But he had to squash it down, had to keep it buried. It would be too easy to wrap himself up in the idea of home… of Abigail’s scones and her gentle, mothering smile… of Lee and Rosie playfully arguing about who could drive the car into town… of the school bell ringing in the distance as he made his rounds… of Elizabeth on the steps ushering her students in… of their baby tucked safely in a handmade crib.

It would be so easy to lose focus.

And Jack couldn’t lose focus… not when they were so close. 

The sun peaked out over the horizon a little more…

_“You know,” Jack started, his hazel eyes already clouding over with a memory, “When I was younger, I used to have really bad nightmares. I would always wake up when everyone was still asleep, even my pa,” a wistful smile danced across his lips and Elizabeth snuggled in just a little closer to give him some comfort._

_“I would just light a candle and read or play solitaire. But then my pa started getting up earlier, a few hours before sunrise. He would sit with me and tell me stories or play cards with me or read with me while Tom and Ma were asleep. And he would take me out on the front porch and we would just watch the sun rise.”_

_A kind, soft grin settled on Jack’s lips and Elizabeth didn’t try to stop the identical smile from forming on her own, “I was so enamored with the colors of it. The oranges and yellows and pinks. One morning…” a sadness the Elizabeth had seen in his eyes before, a sadness she could name but had never experienced, settled in his gaze and it broke her heart, “One morning I told him I wished that I could paint the sunrise, like Ma did. The next thing I knew, Ma was teaching me how to draw and paint. And when I couldn’t sleep, I would light a candle and draw.”_

_Elizabeth was quiet as she watched the weight of his memories sink in. The corners of his mouth upturned but not enough for his handsome dimples to carve into his stubbly cheeks. Without thinking, she raised her delicate hand to trace on Jack’s cheek were his dimples would be._

_“I hated the mornings when I was little girl,” Elizabeth admitted humorously, a gentle chuckle escaping from Jack as she talked, “Our governess would throw back the curtains and yell at us until we got out of bed. She was a horrid woman.”_

_Jack laughed out right and Elizabeth felt an overwhelming sense of pride in making him happy. She always could, in seemed, find a way to make him smile when his mind wandered to darker places. Jack’s heart had been so heavy for so long with the memory of his father, his desire and his duty to make his parents proud, his guilt in his inability to help his brother overcome his own grief for so long. Elizabeth made Jack’s burdens lighter because she helped him carry them. She listened and held him and loved him. Her love for him had become a fact of life, a fact that Jack still couldn’t quite believe._

_“She would have us do Latin drills at the breakfast table and she would make us recite sonnets at tea time. I love to learn but that woman would turn anyone off the idea of education,” Elizabeth continued her story and Jack simply basked in the sound of her voice, so rough and rich and warm in the early morning hours._

_“I loved the evening because it meant I could do however I pleased,” Elizabeth grew wistful herself and Jack could practically see what she looked like as little girl, curiosity and strength and a hint of rebelliousness twinkling in her sapphire eyes, “I would hide myself in Father’s library and curl up in one of the high back chairs while I read. And when he would come home from work, he and I would sit in silence together while he worked and I read.”_

_She turned toward him, her bright eyes fixed upon his face and Jack’s breath caught in his chest. He had never felt more safe and comfortable and vulnerable and excited than when he was trapped in her gaze and in her arms, “I like the mornings now, though,” Elizabeth paused for a moment, her fingernails scratching just behind his ear, “I like waking up to you.”_

_Her voice teasing and tempting and all too alluring to do anything other than kiss her senseless._

“I don’t know why you even listen to that nigger.”

Jack nearly bit his tongue in half to squash the roar rising in his throat as Fraser’s words rattled in his brain and floated on the wind. Jeremiah went stiff beside him and somehow seemed to shrink behind the trunk he was hiding behind. 

Jack could feel Shelby, Ouimet, Brady, Dawson and Reynolds’ eyes on him, watching anxiouslyto see how their commanding officer would react. Jack slowly turned his head and attention away from the men just past the tree line. He could see Matty struggling to reign in his own anger and desire to deck Fraser in the face. 

It would be so easy… too easy to lose focus.

And Jack couldn’t lose focus… not when he was so close. 

“Jeremiah has been nothing but honest and helpful since we raided his party almost two months ago. He has lead us to three drug holds and one armory hold. We’ve run out and arrested more gun and drug runners than any other unit stationed in the Northern Territories and that almost entirely due to the information he has supplied,” Jack practically spit out his rebuttal to Fraser, “He has been pardoned of his crimes by the Governor General of Canada due to his actions and has continued, of his own free will, to aid the Northwest Mounted Police after the fact.”

Jack paid no attention to Matty’s proud grin as his commanding officer railed against the smug Sergeant Fraser. He paid little attention to the grateful, humble smile threatening to form on Jeremiah’s face that was visible in Jack’s peripheral. His gaze was fixed solely on Fraser’s smug grimace falter and embarrassment. Good, Jack thought, maybe this will finally shut the moron up, “He has done nothing but prove himself time and time again that he is a good, trustworthy man. Not to mention the fact that he has saved your hide on more than one occasion, Sergeant Fraser. _That_ is why we listen to Mr. Tremblay. Because he’s worth listening to. Unlike some people in our party.”

Fraser blanched before blushing at Jack’s last comment. Shelby and Reynolds chuckled quietly while Reynolds, Ouimet and Dawson fought hard to keep a smirk off their faces. Matty didn’t even try to dampen his delight at Fraser’s embarrassment, “I’ve got to hand it to you, Fraser. You never fail to make an arse of yourself.”

Reynolds and Ouimet let out a chuckle at Matty’s comment. Fraser’s blush deepened.

Jack glanced at Jeremiah, giving the man a brief nod before turning back to the Mounties beside and behind him, “That’s enough.”

The laughter ceased and their eyes focused on their captain. Jack swallowed hard, glancing between his men and the criminals just past the trees that separated them. 

It would be so easy… so quick to jump up and charge them. But it would be rash and stupid. Patience was the name of the game here. Patience was required to form an effective plan of attack, to gather guard rotation patters and to garner an accurate head count of potentially armed men. 

It would be so easy… too easy to lose focus.

And Jack couldn’t lose focus… not when he was so close. 

“What now, sir,” Matty’s voice cut through the building silence.

Jack looked back over to the Mountie squad, “We wait until nightfall…. Then we infiltrate.”


	11. If I Lay Here

He was exhausted. Even his bones seemed to creek and ache with tiredness. He was cold too. Unbearably cold even with the fully grown beard on his face and the small coal stove sitting in the corner of the shack. But it was done… well, very nearly done. Xiong Lao was in custody, his manufacturer, Yao Chen, was as well. Jack marveled at the miracle of it, both of them in the same place at the same time. He didn't try to calculate the odds. Jack just thanked God for the good fortune.

Good fortune… Jack mulled the words over in his head. He wasn't sure if he would call it good fortune that he and the other Mounties had been able to shoot and hit eight of the twelve armed men surrounding the camp when they all had missed the Mounties only seconds before. He wasn't sure he would call it good fortune that there were only four prisoners, not including Lao and Chen, to transport to Fort Clay. He wasn't sure he could call it good fortune that so many people had died on his order. He wasn't sure of much anymore.

Jack looked around at the shack he sat in. The single window on the back of the room was frosted with ice and an inch or two of snow. Cracks between the planks of wood let in too much of the cold winter air, but Jack wouldn't complain. It was shelter from the night and the snow storm brewing just a few dozen miles away. Jack wondered how long the drug runners must have been hiding in the Northern Territories. It would have taken weeks, months even, to build so many postings and manufacturing depots throughout the uncharted, unsettled land.

His thoughts were interrupted by the thud of the shack's door closing loudly. A tall, broad man stood just to the side of it.

"Fraser's on duty now," Jeremiah grumbled, his teeth chattering every few seconds. He walked toward the coal fire stove, rubbing his hands to warm them as he went, "Hopefully he doesn't fall asleep for the next three hours."

Jack exhaled a chuckle, the sound scraping against his parched throat. Jeremiah laughed softly as he sat down next to Jack on the cold, frozen dirt floor. A comfortable silence settled between them.

"How long until Matty reaches Hope Valley?" Jeremiah broke the silence.

Hope Valley…. It was the closest town with a telegraph for a hundred miles. Hope Valley with its bustling, growing economy with the railroad and boutiques and the lumber mill. Hope Valley with it's beautiful one room school house that was also the town's church. Hope Valley with its own cafe and baseball field and saloon.

"We're only half a day's ride from Hope Valley," Jack nearly whispered as he stared into the fire, burning deep in the belly of the coal stove, "He should have gotten there by. I told him to rest up a bit after he wired Fort Clay. He should be back by tomorrow morning."

Jack had sent Corporal VanNoppen to Hope Valley to request help in transporting Lao and his compatriots to Fort Clay as well as inform Mountie Headquarters that Lao had, indeed, been captured. He very nearly had Shelby accompany Matty in order to take Lao to Hope Valley, but it would have been too risky. What was left of their unit was spread thin as it was and loosing one able bodied man was bad enough. So, Matty road hard and fast to Hope Valley and Jack sat in a cold, poorly made shack waiting for his second in command to return so they could begin the week's ride to Fort Clay.

"Must be mighty hard for you," Jeremiah spoke softly…knowingly, "being so close to your family and unable to see them."

Jack's brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. It had been over eight months since he'd last seen his home. Eight months since he had ridden past the water tower in the early morning hours to begin his rounds. Eight months since he had watched the sun set behind the small church and school house he and the townspeople had built. Eight months since he had laughed with Lee while eating lunch at Abigail's. Eight months since he talked Rosie out of another wild attempt to get the school children to put on a production of  _Pirate of Penzance_. Over eight months since he and Abigail had sipped on coffee while he waited to take Cody out to play baseball. It had been nearly a year since he had watched Elizabeth wake up, the morning light behind her creating a golden halo around her head.

He had missed so much. So many days and weeks and months of life and toil and laughter and love and the weight of it sank deep into the pit of his stomach. Christmas had passed, he thought bitterly. Christmas and Boxing Day and New Years had flown by and Jack was so close to home that he swore he could hear the church bells ringing for evening services. A brief smile graced his lips at the thought of another playful argument with Elizabeth about the differences between her Roman Catholic upbringing and his Presbyterian one.

It was all so close.

"It's too close," Jack finally replied to Jeremiah, looking up at him, the man's dark, rich skin glistening in the light of the fire…like Jack's teary eyes, "It's too close, Jeremiah."

Jeremiah lowered his head, a deep sadness and understanding filled his lungs as he took in a breath. He forgot, sometimes, just how young Captain Jack Thornton was. Jeremiah forgot, sometimes, how blessed young Jack Thornton had been to go through life without too much pain. Jeremiah forgot, often, that Jack was more than the red serge he wore. He was just a man with a wife and family and friends, waiting for him to come home.

And Jeremiah knew, all too well, what it felt like to have it all ripped out from under him.

Jeremiah remembered far too clearly what it felt like to lose his mother… knew that Jack still remembered all too well what it felt like to lose his father. Jeremiah remembered the helplessness that left him paralyzed when his brother's life was dangled in front of him like a string for a cat to play with it.

"We got him, Jack," Jeremiah's deep voice filled the tiny shack with more warmth than the coal stove, his hand a comfortable weight on Jack's tense, tired shoulder, "You have Lao in custody. You have Yao Chen. You've got the heart of Lao's entire operation in custody and Fort Clay is only a week's ride. It's almost over."

Jack's eyes slammed shut. Hope was welling up inside him… hope and the promise of peace and rest and it was too much to think and feel and Jack couldn't afford to get comfortable now. Not when they were so close… not when he was so close to seeing that white school house by the lake and the school teacher standing at the front door, waving that ridiculous cowbell she refused to replace with a real school bell.

"You're going to have to hold out hope for the both of us, Jeremiah," Jack said in a lackluster attempt at humor, a pitiful smile flashing across his face.

Jeremiah smiled brightly, regardless, "I can do that, Captain. I can do that."

Jack smiled softly again, genuine this time, and full of respect and admiration. An unlikely friendship had blossomed between the Mountie and the runaway slave turned clock maker. He couldn't help but hope that Elizabeth would meet Jeremiah Tremblay some day. He couldn't help but hope that one day Jeremiah would get to see Hope Valley, that his friend would find peace somewhere…anywhere… after all of this was over.

Then the gunshots started….

* * *

Matthew VanNoppen could barely see in front of him. The moonlight was just bright enough to illuminate his path, but only just. He was tired and he could feel the sweat and heavy breath of the horse he sat on.  _Thank God_ , he prayed silently, that Lao had his horse with him when the Mounties raided the operation.

He had left early in the afternoon, stopping only to let the horse rest a handful of times, unsure of its fitness. The beast had done well, though. Another small miracle that Matty had to thank the Lord for. It was late in the evening when Matty finally saw the bright, distant streetlights illuminating Hope Valley's main road.

He road harder, the horse grunting as Matty kicked his sides.

Adrenaline buzzed though his body and electricity seemed to collect on the tip of his fingers as Matty pounded on the jailhouse door.

Nothing.

Matty pounded again. Louder.

Nothing.

Matty's fist nearly hit the door again when a gruff voice startled him, "Can I help you, son?"

Matty turned around to find a blonde man, older but strong and fit, stood with his hands on his hips, a gun peaking out of from the fabric of his coat. Matty nearly rolled his eyes at the man's posturing.

"I'm looking for Constable Nathaniel Roy," Matty muttered, still short of breath from the quick dismount of his horse and the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, "I have a message from Captain Jack Thornton that must be sent out immediately.

The man's hand fell from his hips and he practically flew up the few steps onto the jailhouse porch. Excitement, concern and something that Matty couldn't quite place danced in his eyes, "You've got a message from Jack?"

Matty's eyes narrowed as he began to walk closer to the man, "Yes. I need to send a wire to Fort Clay immediately. Now, where is Constable Roy and where is the telegraph?"

The blonde man pulled Matty's arm and lead him down the steps and across the street to the mercantile. He pounded on the door and Matty watched as the man practically threw the man who opened the door, to the side, rushing past him.

"Now really, Bill, it's two o'clock in the morning" the man, balding and shorter than Matty and the blonde man, Bill, apparently. Bill… why did that name sound so familiar. Bill…

"You're Bill Avery!" Matty was surprised at how loud the revelation came out but Bill didn't seem to pay any mind to the Mountie's outburst.

"Ned, this Mountie has a message from Jack that needs to be sent out," Bill was stern as Ned perked up at the mention of Jack Thornton, "Do whatever he asks."

"Where are you going," Ned yelled at Bill as the sheriff ran out the door.

"To find Constable Roy!" Bill shouted back as he ran down the street, toward the railroad barracks.

Ned and Matty glanced at each other for a moment before Ned walked behind the counter of the mercantile. He rummaged around for a pencil and paper before setting down by the telegraph machine. Matty followed silently, waiting as patiently as possible for the older man to finish his preparations.

Ned licked the tip of his pencil before looking up at Matty, "What's the message?"

* * *

Elizabeth gasped as the pain shot through her lower back. Sweat ran down her face and soaked her clothes. She rolled over and sat up, her large belly making it difficult to stand on her feet. She cold feel the baby kicking wildly.

She had been terrified at first. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest as another stabbing, sharp pain washed over her. Oh, God. For a few moments, Elizabeth could only remember to breathe, unable to stand or lay down or scream or cry, trembling fiercely as she sat at the edge of the feather bed. She sat quietly, one hand on her stomach, the other on her back, until she accepted that she had to do something…. anything!

And then everything seemed to happen all at once.

She cried for her mother and Julie, both came running in frantically. Grace relit the kerosene lamps as she instructed Julie to run into town to fetch Abigail and the doctor. Julie flew out of the bedroom and downstairs, remembering only to put on shoes and coat as she raced from the row house and into town.

Grace helped move Elizabeth back into bed, Jack's side of the bed, and plumped all the pillows she could find behind Elizabeth. Elizabeth gripped her mother's hand firmly, breathing deeply as Grace instructed.

Carson, along with Faith, Abigail, and Julie, arrived with fresh sheets and towels and all sorts of odd, terrifying looking instruments that Elizabeth didn't want to look at or think about appeared. Another pain shot through her.

Jack…. Elizabeth needed Jack. She needed his calm, husky voice in her ear, his rough, calloused hand holding her soft, delicate one. She needed his warmth and his calm and steadying presence. She slammed her eyes shut to the bustle around her and prayed, prayed so desperately that he was there, until she could almost feel his arm around her shoulders, his breath on her skin, his woodsy, earthy scent surrounding her. God… why wasn't he here?

* * *

Jack ducked behind the shack as a bullet the wall beside him. Shouts from his fellow Mounties echoed in the cold night air. They were trying to regroup, to form up by the prisoners. Jack could see Lao and Chen laying still on the ground, along with the other drug runners. Good, Fraser had the good sense to get them out of harm's way. Jack glanced over at Jeremiah, who was standing on the other side of him, pistol in hand, ready to fire. The men nodded to one another, waiting a moment for the next round of fire to die. A breath, a pause, before Jack pulled out his pistol, pulled back on the hammer, and rounded the shack he had been using as cover, stepping out and firing into the darkness.

Elizabeth… God he missed her. He needed her - needed the soothing sound of her voice, the sharp, playful remark always at the tip of her tongue. He needed her soft, delicate hand holding his rough, calloused one. He needed her warmth and her calm and her settling presence. Jack breathed in deep and prayed, prayed so desperately that he was with her, until he could almost feel her hand playing the with the hair on the back of his head, her kiss on his lips, her perfume surrounding him. God… why was he here? Why couldn't he be back in Hope Valley with her?

* * *

Elizabeth was almost unsettled with how calm she was. After the mad rush of things, everyone had settled into a rhythm. At some point, Rosemary had found her way into the house and had begun to boil hot water to sterilize sheets and towels and whatever else Carson needed cleaned.

It amazed Elizabeth how close she and Rosemary had become considering how they started out. She would have laughed at the notion of it if she hadn't been in so much pain.

Everything was in place, Carson had told her, and now Elizabeth could do nothing but wait. Elizabeth had never been one to have an overabundance of patience.

Another sharp pain settled into her lower back. Sucking in a deep breath as her mother dapped her forehead with a cold cloth, Elizabeth blinked up at the bedroom ceiling. She knew it was all she could do, so Elizabeth breathed in and out, like Carson and her mother instructed her. Abigail held Elizabeth's hand, a silent steady presence that Elizabeth knew she would be lost without.

She could do this… she had to do this. She'd been through it all in her head, her mother and Abigail had gone over it all, the pain and the waiting and Elizabeth knew all of it in theory. But she knew from first hand experience that a theoretical knowledge of a practice was much different than the practical application of it and now it was happening to her, and - another deep breath in and another deep breath out.

Her gaze shifted to the window, out and up at the stars. For a moment, she thought of Haley's Comet, of the portrait Jack had sketched of them as a present. Of their first kiss. Where was he, what was he doing? Elizabeth wondered if he was thinking of her and their baby. He assured her he was in every letter but Elizabeth hadn't received any letters in over a month and… it would be so very nice if Jack was, at this moment, whatever his situation.

* * *

Gunshots cracked through the dry, cold night air was punctuated b the screams and thuds and grotesque cracks of men falling to the ground.

Another yell of adrenaline tore from between Jack's clenched teeth as his hand firmly, desperately gripped his pistol. He peered through the darkness and the illumination and smoke of the fire before firing off another shot in the distance. A grim look of satisfaction flashed across his face as he saw the faint outline of a shadow in front of him dropped to the ground.

Everything was chaos and bloodshed and so many other things that Jack tried to block from his mind. All that mattered was getting to his men and getting to Lao. The other prisoners didn't matter to him. If they lived or died… what had happened to him?

Somewhere beside him, Jeremiah had picked a rifle off one of the dead men he and Jack had shot down in order to return to the group. Jeremiah gave Jack a quick nod before cocking the rifle tossing it to Jack, who threw his pistol to Jeremiah.

Jack gasped sharply as a bullet tore through his left shoulder. And for a moment, time stood still. He saw Fraser yelling at him to lay down, just as a bullet rocketed through his head. Jack was close enough that some of the blood splashed onto his face.

The sun was beginning to creep up over the horizon and Jack scanned the around the camp. There were at least four more men still shooting and Lao stood up to run.

Elizabeth… oh, God, what he wouldn't give to be with her, for it to be her hand he was holding, clutching and not the rifle that wasn't his. His eyes squeezed shut and he pictured her, standing on the large wrap around porch of their newly built home. She had told him it had been finished in her last letter, that she and Julie and her mother were decorating it but that she refused to move in until he hand carried her over the threshold.

Jack pushed Lao back down, protecting him from the next wave of bullets that whizzed past them. Jack gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath, a shout of pain ripping through the air as he lifted the rifle, tucked the stock into his shoulder and fired.

* * *

Another scream tore from between Elizabeth's clenched teeth as her hands gripped her mother's and Abigail's fiercely. Everything was chaos and blood and sweat and so many other things that Elizabeth tried to block from her mind, save the life she was working desperately to bring into the world.

"Keep breathing, Elizabeth," Abigail's warm voice echoed in Elizabeth's mind, "you're almost there."

"You're almost done Elizabeth, it won't be long now," Carson reassured her.

"I hope," Elizabeth sucked in another breath, "for your sake, Carson, that that's true."

She wanted to slap the smirk right of Carson's face before another deep shot of pain coursed through her.

So close. She was so close. Carson shouted at her for one more push and with one final burst of pain and effort and love… she was done.

Elizabeth slumped weakly against the sweat soaked pillows and bed linens, watching as Carson handed the baby to Faith, who began cleaning the screaming infant immediately. Elizabeth rested her head against her mother's comforting shoulder.

Eventually, Elizabeth's bright blue eyes blinked wearily open as she saw Faith hand Abigail a wiggling bundle of blankets. Abigail smiled brightly, tears glistening in her eyes as she walked over to Elizabeth's side and sat down gently on the edge of the bed.

"I think you'll want to see this, Elizabeth," Abigail smiled again and Elizabeth glanced over at Carson, who nodded in approval.

Elizabeth, with her mother's help, pushed herself up a little straighter and gasped softly, the weight of a mother's love settling happily in her chest, as Abigail placed a baby with a full head of dark brown hair into her waiting arms.

"Oh my," was all Elizabeth could muster.

All the pain, all the exhaustion and long nights and tears and missing Jack… it had all been worth it if only for this moment as Elizabeth stared down at her baby, a heartbreakingly beautiful smile of irrepressible joy curling onto her lips. Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at Abigail.

"I… I didn't hear if… no one said, what,"

"A little boy," Abigail smiled.

Tears fell freely from Elizabeth's eyes, "Oh," was all she could manage again as she gazed down at… her son.

She had a son. She and Jack had made this beautiful, perfect little baby boy. Elizabeth felt as if her heart would burst at any moment with all the love she had for the baby in her arms and his father. Oh he was so beautiful…. Elizabeth lifted her hand and grasped her son's hands, counting ten fingers. Next his toes. She lifted him up to her, taking in the smell of him. Elizabeth didn't care that tears fell down her face as Grace held her tight and Abigail rubbed her leg over the covers.

Elizabeth wept with delight, love, utter euphoria… and utter sorrow that her darling Jack, was not beside her, his arm wrapped around her instead of her mother's, to enjoy it.

"Have you and Jack discussed any names?" Grace spoke softly, sweetly, in Elizabeth's ear.

Elizabeth smiled brightly as her son cooed softly in her arms. Abigail and Grace chuckled at the sight.

"We have," Elizabeth answered a moment later, "I wanted to name him after Jack. But Jack… Jack wanted the name Thatcher if it was a boy."

Grace's eyes widened. She glanced at Abigail, who didn't seem surprised in the slightest.

"And how did he decide upon that," Grace asked playfully as she pulled back her grandson's blanket just a bit to get a better look at him.

Tears began to well up in Elizabeth's sapphire gaze as she smiled at the memory of Jack's explanation in a letter.

"He said that Thatcher was the name of the woman he loved and that it deserved to be passed on. He said it was the name of a good man and a good family and that any Thornton should be proud to bear it."

Abigail didn't bother wiping the tear that fell down her cheek. She wasn't surprised in the slightest at Jack's request. She wasn't at all surprised at Elizabeth's next comment.

"So I told him that we would compromise," Elizabeth smiled, mischief and excitement twinkling in her gaze as she lay comfortably in the warm feather bed that Jack had bought them before leaving, "Mother, Abigail. I would like to introduce you to Jack Thatcher Thornton."

* * *

Jack lay on the ground, blood seeping out of the bullet wound to his shoulder and to his stomach. He looked over to his left and saw Lao's cold, dead, empty eyes staring at him. Blood drenched the man's shirt and the dark red liquid had spilled out of his mouth and down his chin. Jack closed his eyes at the sight.

Pain coursed through him as Jack tried to sit up. Any attempt to move his muscles caused a rip to the already gaping wound to his stomach. His shoulder and gone numb to the cold and Jack's throat was parched.

He was dehydrated, probably from the blood loss. He had to move, had to get up, had to run…. he couldn't.

The sun was now up and the blood splattered snow around him began to blind him as it reflected the early morning light.

Jack breathed in… a rattling sound building in his chest… and out… a pained cry passing through his lips.

He looked to the sky before everything went dark….


	12. Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away

Jack lay still, eyes closed to the rest of the world. The sun was warm but not unpleasant as it rested high in the sky. He could fill the wind flutter through the grass underneath his finger tips. The song of the chickadee danced around Jack's ears, a welcome accompaniment to the adorable giggles echoing from the edge of the pond. A gentle smile danced across his face as his eyes opened and sat up to gaze upon the beautiful sight before him.

Elizabeth and a small child, a girl with russet ringlets, stood at the edge of the pod, the reflection of the school house standing out on the clear, still water. Jack watched as Elizabeth lifted the little girl up by the arms, dipping her bare feet into the water every few seconds. The child cackled every time and Elizabeth chuckled softly.

Jack's playful chortle caught the attention of his wife and child and suddenly, the little girl, no more than two, had leapt from her mother's arms and starting running towards her father. Jack caught the little girl, throwing her up in the air and earning a squeal of excitement for his efforts. Elizabeth calmly walked over to them, admiring the sight before her.

"We were wondering if you were going to sleep the day away," Elizabeth's words were stern but the glimmer in her eyes told Jack that they were all in jest.

He threw a dimpled grin her way, "Only if you two join me."

Elizabeth grinned brightly, her eyes squinting slightly as a playful giggle rushed past her lips.

Soon enough, the three of them lay in the grass, the little girl sleeping peacefully between her parents.

Jack watched as Elizabeth's eyes fluttered closed.

"This is what I always dreamed of," Jack whispered, afraid that if he spoke too loudly the delicate moment would shatter into a million pieces in his hands, "You and me. Here, with a baby between us. A family all our own."

Jack paused to steal a glance at the tiny sleeping girl between them. Dark, long eyelashes kissed round and rosy cheeks. A thumb stuck in between soft, full lips as she sucked it in her sleep. A soft, rather unladylike grunt echoed from the baby's chest and Jack smiled brightly at the sight. He lay a rough hand softly on the child's belly as she rolled closer into the his side.

"It's everything I hoped for but was too afraid to let myself think about for too long."

"I know what you mean," Elizabeth whispered, afraid of waking the baby between them.

Jack's attention turned from the little girl that looked so much like her mother, to Elizabeth. Her gaze was far away and melancholy overwhelmed her features. Jack lifted his hand up to stroke her cheek, desperately trying to wipe the pain from her features. He waited patiently for her to explain, knowing that Elizabeth wanted to share a painful secret, the kind that she and Jack were still working on revealing to each other since Charles' proposal nearly four years ago. Years of etiquette lessons and high society decorum weighed down on Elizabeth in moments like this, making It hard for her to fully open up to anyone. But she always fought to overcome it for him.

So they lay beside one another, their sleeping little girl tucked safely between them, as Jack waited for his wife to speak.

"I was so afraid, Jack," Elizabeth's voice cracked on his name. Elizabeth covered Jack's hand with her own, rubbing a small scar past his thumb. Jack pulled her closer to him and Elizabeth's hand moved up to touch his shoulder, the spot suddenly hot and painful.

"I was so afraid when you got back on that train to leave Hamilton. Things were so distant between us and I knew that I had broken something between us, something that I feared I could never repair…. I watched you walk away and I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. It was as if I had been frozen on that platform, just watching you disappear into the crowd and I knew… I knew that my future was disappearing in that crowd too."

Elizabeth's touch on Jack's shoulder seared through his skin. The weight of his daughter against his stomach felt like a thousand needles ripping through him. Jack glanced down at his wife's hand, now covered in blood by a seeping wound in his shoulder. His jaw clenched with pain as he gazed into Elizabeth's face.

A tear fell from Elizabeth's stormy, sapphire eyes as she gave him a melancholy smirk.

"Jack," her voice caught on his name as more tears began to fall, _"please don't do that to me again. Please don't leave me."_

_"I won't," Jack vowed. He had never meant anything more in his life than those words._

_"Then I need you to wake up," was Elizabeth's simple reply._

_Jack's vision began to grow blurry. He blinked rapidly, forcing Elizabeth's face to come back into focus._

_"Please wake up, sweetheart," Elizabeth's voice was muffled now, as if underwater._

_"Elizabeth," Jack fought to keep her in focus, to keep the baby beside him close but they were both fading fast, slipping through his hand like sand through a sieve, "Elizabeth, please."_

_Wake up, Jack. Wake up, Jack._

"WAKE UP, JACK!"

Jack gasped for air as he came to. Jeremiah hovered above him, pulling him up onto his feet. He could feel the blood seeping out of his wounds stain his clothes, causing the cold wind to stick to his skin. Jack's teeth began to chatter and his knees buckled under the agony that coursed through his veins. Jeremiah grunted as he caught Jack, his long arms wrapping around the young Mountie like a welcome blanket.

"Come on, Jack," Jeremiah's voice was raspy, his words rushed as he forced Jack to walk to a horse tied up to the post beside them. Jack's eyes narrowed in confusion. Where did Jeremiah find a horse?

"Where…" Jack's throat was like sandpaper, "where are we…"

"Hope Valley," Jeremiah replied sharply, his voice harsher than Jack had ever heard it, "you said it's less thirty miles. We can make it in six or seven hours if we push the horses."

Jack's eyes narrowed at the sight in front of him. Two horses stood beside each other, tall and ready to ride.  _When the hell did the other horse show up?_

 _You're delirious, his mind told him. You're dehydrated and you're body's suffering major blood loss._  The wind blew again and the blood wet clothes he wore did nothing to block the cold. The pain shot through him again and the world began to spin. He wanted to throw up. Another gust of wind… Dear God it was cold.

 _That's good_ , Jack continued,  _that will slow your blood flow. But that means hypothermia… that means…_

"I don't think…" Jack's teeth chattered as Jeremiah wrapped a coat around his shoulders. Where did he get a coat? "I don't know if… I don't know if I can ride…."

Jeremiah helped Jack get up onto the horse, the latter's hands barely able to grip the reins. Suddenly, Jeremiah was sitting behind Jack, his large frame a welcome shield to the winter wind that danced around them. Jack fought to keep his eyes open.

"You won't be doing it alone, Jack," Jeremiah spoke softly. Something about it put Jack off. It didn't sound right. It sounded forced and fake.

"But the other horse…"

"It's an extra. In case something happens to the one we're on."

Jack nodded, desperately fighting the urge to close his eyes and rest.

"Stay awake, Captain," Jeremiah's breathing was shallow, "I need you to tell me how to get to Hope Valley."

"I won't let you…" Jack took a deep breath, fighting to ignore the searing pain underneath his rib and in his shoulder, "I won't let you down."

"I know, Captain. I know."

Jeremiah kicked the sides of the horse, forcing the beast to jump into a sprint.

The sun had finally begun to peak over the horizon….

* * *

Bill Avery was not a cheerful man. He was gruff more often than not and at his best he would describe himself as ornery. But not today. Today the sun was shining brightly and he could hear children screaming delightedly as snowball fights ensued. The events of last night meant a cancellation of school and the children of Hope Valley had decided to take full advantage of the impromptu snow day. The day was nearly done and the sun had begun to set, painting the sky a vast array of pinks and blues and oranges and still the children ran and played and laughed.

 _Good,_  Bill thought,  _children need to have time to be children._

The thought of children brought the events of last night back to the forefront of his mind.

This morning, he had been granted the privilege of visiting the Thornton house to visit Elizabeth and her newborn son. The boy, Thatcher, had a full head of dark brown hair and bright blue eyes that looked exactly like his mother's. Abigail had told him that most babies are born with blue eyes, but he and Elizabeth had shared a secret glance, both knowing somewhere deep in their bones that the boy would keep Elizabeth's deep blue gaze.

_Bill had held the boy for a few minutes, rocking gently back and forth in the rocking chair that sat by the fire in the small living room while Elizabeth sipped on her tea and Julie and Elizabeth's mother tidied up around the house. Bill had watched Elizabeth watch her son, the love and excitement and fear of a new mother etched into the contours of her face. An overwhelming sense of sadness swept over Bill in that instant._

_Sadness for Elizabeth and Jack that they had not been able to share the moment of their child's birth. Sadness that Elizabeth would be the only parent to the boy for the foreseeable future. Sadness for the young man and woman that he so often thought of as a son and daughter, that they had had so short a time to be together before Jack had been forced to leave. They had been cheated out of so much time together. And then the anger rushed over him in waves._

_Anger for Elizabeth and Jack that yet another moment for them to share had been stolen away in the dead of night. Anger at the Mounties for keeping another young man from his family. Anger at the world for being so cruel and thoughtless to all the lovers and soldiers and husbands and wives that only wished to be together and live in peace._

_The anger dissipated and gave way to sadness once again, rushing over Bill so quickly that it brought tears to his eyes. And suddenly, Bill could feel Elizabeth's eyes on him, searching his weathered face for the pain that was so evident in his eyes. So Bill looked up from the sleeping baby in his arms and over to its mother. Her features were soft and sad, her gaze understanding and all knowing. And in that moment Bill knew. Bill knew that Elizabeth had thought and felt all the things he did only moments ago. He knew that she had railed against God in one breath and then asked for His forgiveness and strength in the next._

" _It's worth it, Bill. It's all worth it if only for that little boy."_

_A bittersweet smile touched Elizabeth's lips and Bill could only give the young woman an understanding and barely perceptible nod before looking back down at the little boy in his arms. It was not a time to be sad or angry. It was a time to rejoice for the new life that had entered the world only a few hours ago._

" _You should know, Elizabeth," Bill's rough, low voice cut through the companionable silence between them, "That a Mountie rode into town last night."_

_Elizabeth's eyes widened and she sat up a little straighter in her chair. Bill watched in amazement as Elizabeth willed herself to hope for good news while silently strengthening herself for the worst news._

_Bill gave a crooked smile to put her mind at ease, "He is the second in command for Jack's unit. Apparently, Jack and his men are in the final stages of their assignment. They have a few prisoners to transport to Fort Clay and then he will be allowed to come home."_

_The smile that danced across Elizabeth's face could only be described as breathtaking…._

So Bill walked down the main street of Hope Valley with an honest-to-God smile on his face. Elizabeth had safely delivered her baby. Jack was on his way home in a few weeks time. And children were playing happily in the snow.

"Bill!"

Bill whipped his head around to see an ecstatic Tom Thornton barreling down the porch from Abigail's Cafe and across the street to the Mountie office.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Thornton?" Bill asked playfully.

A wide grin broke out across Tom's face, "Did you hear the  _news_?"

"You mean that you're an uncle to a handsome nephew?" Bill asked knowingly, "No. Haven't heard a thing about it."

Tom laughed heartily, "I can't believe it. I don't know who's more a mess over him. Elizabeth, Julie, Abigail or Grace."

Bill smirked, "I'm pretty sure that Rosemary has them all beat."

Another booming laugh erupted from Tom's lips, "Truer words have never been spoken."

Bill smiled brightly at the young man in front of him.  _Dear God, Thomas, you'd be so proud of your boys._

"Did  _you_  hear the news, Tom?" Bill asked conspiratorially.

Tom's brow furrowed in confusion but his eyes twinkled with curiosity. Bill's grin widened.

"A Mountie from Jack's unit road into town late last night."

Tom's breath caught and Bill fought the urge to laugh at the codfish expression on the young man's face.

"Apparently, Jack's close to coming home. Just a stop at Fort Clay and his time in the Northern Territories is over."

Tom's eyes filled with tears at the thought of his brother's homecoming. Jack would be able to see his wife and newborn son sooner than any of them thought. Jack would be home in time for his wedding. His big brother, his friend and protector and hero would be able to stand beside Tom on the most important day of his life…It was all too much to take in. It was all too good to be true.

"SOMEBODY HELP!"

Bill and Tom turned to see a large, black man riding a ragged, sweating horse past the Mountie office. But that wasn't what caught their eye. It was the young man sitting on the front of the saddle, slouched over the horse's neck. His face was covered in a full beard, his lips were blue and blood soaked his clothes.

"JACK!"

"DEAR GOD, JACK!"

Tom and Bill jumped off the porch. The man steering the horse stopped in front of them, panic and exhaustion heavy in his frame. He dismounted the horse quickly, careful to catch Jack as he began to slide of the beast.

"Please," Jeremiah begged as Bill and Tom reached him and began to take Jack from his weak, withering hold, "Please, help him."

Jeremiah stumbled a bit as he held onto Jack's unconscious body. Bill rushed and wrapped his arm around Jack's waist, helping Jeremiah carry the burden of his weight.

"Tom, go get Carson," Bill ordered, "we will take him to the infirmary."

Tom watched, stunned and unable to move, as Bill and the stranger picked his unconscious brother up by his waist and shoulders.

"Bill," Tom whispered, unsure of anything.

"NOW, TOM!"

Bill's voice cut through the chaos and without thinking, Tom was racing back toward the cafe to fetch Carson.

Bill began to help Jeremiah carry Jack to the infirmary. Their steps were slow but steady and soon enough, they were on the steps of Carson's office. Bill could hear the town doctor yelling back to Faith and Tom behind them. He looked over his shoulder to see Tom split off and run down the road towards the row houses. He watched as Faith's eyes widened with fear at the sight of her friend so battered and broken.

"What happened?!" Carson ordered Jeremiah to explain as Faith opened the door and ushered the men inside. Bill noticed absently that she had begun to rifle through cabinets and drawers for supplies. Jeremiah and Bill placed Jack onto the observation table and Carson began to rip open Jack's blood soaked clothes while Jeremiah started to answer.

"We were ambushed early this morning," Jeremiah's breathing was short and shallow. Bill could have sworn it sounded pained, "There… there was a shoot out." Jeremiah swallowed painfully and swayed unsteadily. "Jack… Jack and I were the only ones that…"

Suddenly, Jeremiah's eyes rolled back into his head and his broad body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Faith jumped and shouted in surprise. Carson quickly told her to examine him while he began to study Jack's injuries and staunch the bleeding from the two gaping bullet wounds in his body. Bill fell to his knees to help Faith when he noticed it, the massive bullet wounds in Jeremiah's upper thigh and stomach.

"Oh God," was all Faith could mutter.

Oh God, Bill thought as he and Faith locked onto one another.

* * *

Elizabeth didn't know if she should smile or roll her eyes at the sight before her.

She was currently watching, with thinly veiled amusement, Julie, Abigail, Rosemary, and Grace standing over the bassinet just to the left of her bed. With each unconscious stretch and grunt that Thatcher made, the women above him fawned and sighed in amazement. Elizabeth would have laughed at them all if she wasn't so enamored herself.

He had fallen asleep at her breast, suckling softly for a few minutes before suddenly stopping. Elizabeth, who had admittedly been dosing off herself, woke up with a start, terrified that something horrible was happening. But she looked down at the beautiful baby boy in her arms and found him snoring softly, his tiny hand resting on her breast.

And now her son, Jack Thatcher Thornton, was resting comfortably in his bassinet by his mother's side while the most important women in her life gazed down lovingly at him. She smiled at the sight.

"ELIZABETH! JULIE!"

All five women glanced at one another, fury dancing in their eyes. It would have been laughable if they weren't all so angry at the prospect of someone waking up poor Thatcher from his nap prematurely.

"ELIZABETH!"

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she placed the voice echoing through the house as a set of boots trampled up the stairs. What on earth was Tom screaming about?

"ELIZABETH," Tom reached the top of the stairs when Julie ran out of the bedroom, ready to scold him for being so loud.

"Tom, be quiet! We just put Thatcher down!"

Tom practically picked Julie up and moved her out of the way so he could enter the bedroom.

"Elizabeth," Tom was out of breath and sweating. Fear and panic shimmered in his eyes and Elizabeth's heart dropped into her stomach. Something was wrong.

"Tom," Elizabeth began but her voice caught on the question she was too scared to ask.

Tom's eyes welled with tears as he looked frantically around the room. Suddenly, Elizabeth felt Abigail, Rosie, and her mother circle her, at the ready for whatever Tom was about to say. Julie walked up behind him and placed a loving, gentle hand on his shoulder and the tears that Tom had been fighting to hold back now fell freely.

"It's Jack…."

 


	13. I and Love and You

_Elizabeth didn't know if she should smile or roll her eyes at the sight before her._

_She was currently watching, with thinly veiled amusement, Julie, Abigail, Rosemary, and Grace standing over the bassinet just to the left of her bed. With each unconscious stretch and grunt that Thatcher made, the women above him fawned and sighed in amazement. Elizabeth would have laughed at them all if she wasn't so enamored herself._

_He had fallen asleep at her breast, suckling softly for a few minutes before suddenly stopping. Elizabeth, who had admittedly been dosing off herself, woke up with a start, terrified that something horrible was happening. But she looked down at the beautiful baby boy in her arms and found him snoring softly, his tiny hand resting on her breast._

_And now her son, Jack Thatcher Thornton, was resting comfortably in his bassinet by his mother's side while the most important women in her life gazed down lovingly at him. She smiled at the sight._

_"ELIZABETH! JULIE!"_

_All five women glanced at one another, fury dancing in their eyes. It would have been laughable if they weren't all so angry at the prospect of someone waking up poor Thatcher from his nap prematurely._

_"ELIZABETH!"_

_Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she placed the voice echoing through the house as a set of boots trampled up the stairs. What on earth was Tom screaming about?_

_"ELIZABETH," Tom reached the top of the stairs when Julie ran out of the bedroom, ready to scold him for being so loud._

_"Tom, be quiet! We just put Thatcher down!"_

_Tom practically picked Julie up and moved her out of the way so he could enter the bedroom._

_"Elizabeth," Tom was out of breath and sweating. Fear and panic shimmered in his eyes and Elizabeth's heart dropped into her stomach. Something was wrong._

_"Tom," Elizabeth began but her voice caught on the question she was too scared to ask._

_Tom's eyes welled with tears as he looked frantically around the room. Suddenly, Elizabeth felt Abigail, Rosie, and her mother circle her, at the ready for whatever Tom was about to say. Julie walked up behind him and placed a loving, gentle hand on his shoulder and the tears that Tom had been fighting to hold back now fell freely._

_"It's Jack…."_  

———————————————————————————————————————

Elizabeth had nearly drowned as a child. 

She had grown up in the port city of Hamilton, had learned to swim and splash along the shores of Lake Ontario countless times. The water that seemed to surround a young Elizabeth wasn’t new or dangerous, simply a constant in her life and the lives of her sisters. So when her father announced one night at dinner of the family holiday he had planned to Prince Edward Island, Elizabeth had thought little of it save the excitement of her first boat ride. 

But much to Elizabeth’s surprise, the shores of Lake Ontario were stodgy and lifeless compared to the white, champagne, blush and carmine beaches of Prince Edward Island. Her father had arranged for three rooms at a lovely hotel, The White Sands. Elizabeth and Julie shared a room, happy to be rid of Viola every evening. Likewise, Viola, self-described as a growing young woman in need of privacy, was thrilled with the promise of her own room, if only for a few weeks. The hotel was surrounded by tall, lush green grasses that Elizabeth and her sisters had run through for hours on end. But best of all, the hotel sat just past the shore of a beautiful, crisp white beach that was less than a five minute walk from the hotel’s expansive wrap around porch. 

All three Thatcher girls giggled whenever they splashed one another in the small tide pools and puddles that formed along the shore as the tides receded. Viola and Elizabeth would always scream when Julie, barely four years old, chased them with a baby crab she had found when digging in the sand. 

Elizabeth and Viola would have competitions to prove who the best swimmer was. Viola would tease Elizabeth when she struggled with her backstroke. Elizabeth would goad her older sister when she couldn’t get her breathing right when executing the breaststroke. They would count how long the other could hold their breath underwater and they would see how far one of them could swim out into the water and come back, despite their parents protests. 

One day, Viola pushed Elizabeth too far. She called Elizabeth a silly child that could swim as well as a baby and that there was no way she could swim more than two feet. And Elizabeth, young and headstrong, had accepted her sister’s challenge, more than happy to prove her wrong. 

Soon, Elizabeth had realized she had gone too far. She was unable to touch the ocean floor and unable to steady herself when the current began to pull and push her further out. She could hear Viola yelling at her to turn around and swim back. Elizabeth had swished and kicked to fight the current, but her arms and legs were already exhausted. Soon, the water engulfed her.

She had tried desperately to pull herself up from beneath the waves and take a breath. Countless times, she felt her fingertips breach the surface of the water, felt the top of her head touch the air, only to be dragged back down under with each new crashing wave. Her heart pounded relentlessly in her ears and throbbed in her temples. Fear bubbled up inside her and panic began to set in. Elizabeth opened her mouth to scream only to suck in the salty ocean water of the Northumberland Straight….

And then she felt her father’s hand grasp her little ones as he plucked her from the rough waves. He swum assuredly back to shore, holding Elizabeth tight to his chest. Her father’s grip was safe and reassuring as Elizabeth coughed against his shoulder, spewing salt water and expelling fear from her lungs. Soon enough, they were back on the beach and her mother wiped the water from her deep blue eyes. She could hear Viola crying, begging for Elizabeth to forgive her for daring her to swim so far out into the water. Julie stood silently next to their father, a tight grasp on Elizabeth’s hand that was dangling limply at her side. 

“It’s okay, Beth,” she could hear her father’s strong, steady voice, “just breathe. Just breathe.”

So Elizabeth breathed in and out, coughing every now and again. _It’s okay… it’s okay..it’s…it’s Jack…. Jack….It’s Jack… it’s Jack.. it’s Jack….. It’s Jack…._

_Please God. Please…. God, please not Jack._

Tom’s words rattled in Elizabeth’s head, growing louder and harsher with each passing second. She stared blankly at her brother-in-law while he explained that Jack… her darling, beautiful, strong Jack… was hurt, maybe dying…. Elizabeth couldn’t think of that horrible possibility. 

She couldn’t hear Tom anymore, couldn’t hear the gasps and tears from Abigail and Julie and her mother. They were just waves of noise. Waves crashing over her head and pulling her under into a deep dark sea that she hadn’t realized she had been treading in since the moment Jack left… since the moment she had watched him ride out of town with her heart in his hands. She had jumped into the sea without realizing it and now… now Elizabeth was drowning. It was terrifying and foreign and familiar and all Elizabeth could do was listen to the crashing waves over her head.

“I…” the words stuck in her throat, pulled out by the invisible water rushing through her lungs, “I have to go.”

Elizabeth began to stand up out of the bed, her body screaming at her to sit back down. She had only given birth a few hours ago… less than ten. She shouldn’t have attempted to leave the feather bed… she couldn’t think of any other action to take.

“Elizabeth, you cannot leave this house.” Abigail and Grace fussed in unison. Both women rushed over to Elizabeth’s side, trying to get her to sit back down.

“I am not,” Elizabeth began, very nearly snarling at the two women beside her, “going to sit here while my husband is bleeding out on a table. I have to see him… I have to… I _must_ see him.”

Grace attempted to console her daughter, “Jack is in good hands, Elizabeth. Right now, he needs you and Thatcher safe and healthy. Which means you need to stay in bed before you hurt yourself.”

Elizabeth ignored her mother’s words, biting back with her own, “I have to see him, Mother. I can’t… I need to tell him… he _needs_ me.”

“He _doesn’t_ need you right now, Elizabeth. He needs _Carson_ and _Faith_ and he needs them _focused_. And they can’t be focused if you’re running into town after having given birth less than 24 hours ago.” 

Abigail’s words were sharp and painful and took the room by surprise. Grace’s eyes went wide and Tom’s brows shot through the shock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Julie gasped at Thatcher began to cry. 

Elizabeth’s eyes shut as a jolt of pain coursed through her body and left her breathless. She couldn’t stand anymore, the pain low in her belly refusing to dissipate and so she lowered herself back down onto her side of the bed. A deep breath escaped from in between her lips and Abigail placed two strong, loving hands on her slender shoulders. Elizabeth looked up at her friend, her mentor, sister, mother…. Tears welled in both their eyes. Grace now sat at her daughter’s side, grasping tightly to the hand dangling limply at her side. 

The sharp sound of a baby crying filled Elizabeth’s ears. She glanced over Abigail’s shoulder to see her sister struggling to calm a fussy Thatcher down. His face was red and scrunched up in pain and Julie looked terrified and unsure of herself and a sudden surge of love and possessiveness and fear swept over Elizabeth… and suddenly the sea inside her head was calm. The storm raged on in the distance but for now… for now the water was still. 

“Bring him over here Julie,” Elizabeth commanded so softly, yet so assuredly like all mothers could. Elizabeth’s words and her stormy blue eyes beckoned Julie toward her older sister, arms curled protectively around her infant nephew as she walked carefully over to the bed and placed the infant boy into his mother’s arms.

Elizabeth held her son close as she began to hum softly to him, studying the way his nose already seemed to resemble Jack’s and how his pout was so similar to her own. A tear fell down Elizabeth’s cheek and landed onto Thatcher’s little hand, the salty water foreign to his delicate, newborn skin. 

“It’s okay, Thatcher,” he could hear his mother’s soft, soothing voice, “it’s okay, Thatcher. 

The baby quickly settled down against his mother’s chest, nuzzling her neck softly and smacking his lips. It was so sweet and so innocent and it made Elizabeth want to cry. 

Jack smacked his lips when he was asleep, usually before he turned onto his side and pulled Elizabeth into his chest. It was such a little thing that only Elizabeth knew about him. It was one of the secret treasures she locked away in her heart when he left for the Northern Territories. And the knowledge that their son, _his_ son, was already so much like his father felt like a hole in her chest. 

_Dear God… please not Jack_. 

“Elizabeth.”

It was a quiet voice, quieter than Elizabeth had thought possible for her to be.

Rosemary stood still in the corner of the bedroom. Tears brimmed in her eyes but her jaw was set and resolve oozed from her radiant skin. 

“Abigail and I will go into town and wait with Tom for any news,” Rosemary began as she walked steadily to Elizabeth. She gave Abigail a slight nod and Abigail walked around the bed and ushered Tom downstairs.

“We will not leave Jack’s side until it’s all over. I promise you,” Rosemary knelt down in front of Elizabeth and placed a comforting hand on her friend’s arms that held Thatcher close.A melancholy smile drew across Rosemary’s face as several tears fell down onto her full lips. “I will send Tom or Lee with news every hour on the hour…. But right now, your son needs you, and your husband needs you to be safe and to be healthy. And that means staying right where you are.”

Elizabeth’s eyes slammed shut as her friend’s words rattled around in her head, “I know,” Elizabeth whispered in reply, “I know.”

The two women gazed at one another and Elizabeth sent a silent prayer of thanks for Rosemary. 

The woman had ridden in to Hope Valley with a single-minded focus of winning Jack back. She and Elizabeth had clashed and fought and suddenly, without realizing it, had become friends. Jack had often teased them about their unlikely relationship, constantly earning scowls from both Rosemary and Elizabeth and laughter from Lee. They had bonded in the most unlikely of circumstances and had forged a bond that only grew as the years passed. In so many ways, they were sisters, aggravating one another, helping one another, comforting one another and celebrating with each other. 

They both loved Jack dearly.

And as Elizabeth stared down at Rosemary, she knew that she could trust her friend to follow through on her word. If Elizabeth couldn’t be outside Carson’s door, waiting for any word of Jack’s condition, it could only be Rosemary to hold her place. 

“Thank you,” was all Elizabeth could muster as she choked back more tears. 

“Of course,” was Rosemary’s soft, strained reply, “of course.” 

———————————————————————————————————————

Tom had been an unruly child even before his father died.

He had been boisterous and hyper and discontent. Life in the small town of Rimouski, Quebec was boring and quiet and Tom Thornton couldn’t stand it. His mind was wild and rowdy and there was little to stimulate his imagination and intellect. He constantly picked fights in school and riled up his teachers in order to stir up excitement to the sleepy timber town. 

But for every fight, every scrap behind the old dingy schoolhouse he got into, Jack was there to talk him out of trouble or fight beside him. For every time he played a prank on the pretty but stern Mrs. Pike, Jack was there to help smooth things. And for every punishment his mother and father dished out, for every time he was barred from the pick up baseball or football games with the other school kids, Jack was there to keep him company. 

When their father died… Tom lost himself. He let his grief and anger and disappointment consume him until he couldn’t find it in himself to care about anything. He became numb to the Mrs. Pikes admonishments and attempts to reach out. 

He watched his mother draw into herself, becoming more reserved and quiet. The soft edges of her character, the parts of her that let him sneak a cookie before dinner or to stay up and read one more chapter of _The Red Badge of Courage,_ had become sharper. She quit painting and drawing, quit singing off key as she cleaned around the house, and quit reading to him at night before bed. 

And Jack, quiet, calm, steady Jack, remained by Tom’s side. He spent more time in the woods, spent more time by himself sketching and studying the world around him. In a way, Jack had simply become more of who he was: steadier, calmer, quieter… stronger. 

Whenever Ma was sharp with Tom for yet another hair brained prank, Jack was there to calm her down and to help Tom see the error of his ways. When Rosemary, who Tom loved but always found a bit too loud and dramatic for Jack, was overreacting about yet another disagreement with another director, Jack talked her through what she should have said and helped her form a plan of attack for repentance. When someone… anyone, was in need or in pain, it was Jack that was there to help. 

Tom Thornton, who learned as little as possible as a child and for most of his adult life, learned quickly that the whole world could go topsy turvy… the rivers could run backwards and the sun may never rise again… but Jack Thornton would be there for him to lean on and to learn from. The world could go mad, but his brother, Jack Thornton, would always be there to fix it. 

But now he might not be. 

Tom watched as Julie and Rosemary frantically gathered their coats and gloves and scarves. He drove them silently into town in Rosemary and Lee’s shiny new Model-T. He stood patiently, Julie’s hand resting softly in the crook of his arm, as Rosemary walked into the lumber mill’s office to retrieve Lee. He waited calmly as Bill explained to Lee, Rosemary, and Julie exactly what had happened after the stranger road into town with a nearly lifeless Jack. 

And now he sat calmly outside of the clinic, the bitterly cold wind stinging his face, as he waited for any word from Faith or Carson about Jack’s condition. Lee or Rosemary would walk over from the saloon every hour to keep him company and to inquire about Jack’s condition. And every hour, Tom would watch Lee or Rosemary drive back out to the row houses to deliver news to Elizabeth and Abigail and Grace. 

And Tom Thornton waited… waited to hear if his brother, the quiet, calm, steady Jack Thornton was okay… waited to hear if his world was about to go topsy turvy and mad…. Tom Thornton waited.

“Tom,” a quiet, still voice cut through the noise in his head and Tom looked up to see the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Julie Thatcher, with her beautiful auburn hair and kind, playful hazel eyes walked up the few porch steps to stand directly in front of him. 

She placed a gloved hand on the cold, chapped skin of his cheek, “Tom please let me sit out here for a while. Go inside the saloon and get a coffee.”

Tom placed his hand overtop Julie’s, pulling her knuckles to his lips and placing a quick kiss on the soft leather, “I’m okay, Jules.”

“You’ll catch your death if you stay out too much longer,” Julie’s words were gentle, playful even, as if she were uncertain of what to say, “Jack wouldn’t want you to worry yourself like this.”

“I’m okay, Julie,” Tom’s repeated, his words sharper than before. 

“Tom, please,” frustration was laced in her words as Julie lowered herself into the chair beside Tom’s, “You’re not doing anyone any good by getting yourself sick. I will sit here and wait for a while. And when Lee comes back, he can sit and wait for news. You’re not alone, Tom. I understand that you’re worried…”

“Julie,” Tom whispered her name, his words tortured and painful and bitter, “I can’t,” the words caught in his throat, “I can’t leave him.”

Tears welled in Tom’s eyes at the thought of leaving his brother, of running away like he had so many times before. He knew that he had disappointed Jack so many times. He knew that he had fallen short of the kind of man that Jack thought he could be… the kind of man he _should_ be. 

“He has always been there for me, Julie. Even when I didn’t deserve it, Jack has always…. he’s always been here and I can’t have a world where…I can’t… please don’t make me leave him, Julie. Not now.”

Tears fell from Tom’s eyes and began to freeze against his cheeks. Julie lowered herself to kneel in front of him, both gloved hands resting on either side of his face, tears welling in her own eyes. 

“I won’t,” Julie vowed, “I will never make you leave him.”

Tom slammed his eyes shut and he pulled Julie to his chest. He felt her slender arms wrap around him as sobs wracked his body.

“I can’t…I can’t, Julie… I”

“I know, Tom,” Julie whispered into his hair, “I know, sweetheart.”

She did know, Tom was sure. Julie Thatcher knew him better than just about anyone, save his brother. And she knew that Tom Thornton couldn’t imagine a world without Jack Thornton…knew that it would break something delicate and precious inside him that would never be able to be repaired.  

———————————————————————————————————————

Carson couldn’t remember a time he had been so tired. His hands were beginning to cramp, forcing him to shake them out every few minutes while Faith held a clamp or knife or gauze packing. His eyes stung with exhaustion from straining to see the smallest of details as he searched for bullets and sewed gaping wounds shut. His feet and knees ached deep in the bone from standing for hours on end. His mind hurt from searching the recesses of his mind for any information on treating gunshots and hypothermia and blood loss. His throat was dry from talking Faith through cauterizing a severed artery without killing the wounded man on her table. 

Carson Shepherd, small town country doctor, was mentally and physically drained… and there was still so much left to do. 

“What next,” Faith’s voice cut through Carson’s weary mind. He looked up at her for just a moment before answering. Wisps of her soft blonde hair had escaped from the professional, practical bun she often kept it in. Blood was caked onto her hands and smeared on her crisp, white nurse’s apron. He could see the tiredness in her face, the color of her cheeks nearly gone and dark circles under her beautiful eyes. _Thank God,_ Carson thought, _thank you, God, for Faith._

“Now,” Carson began, his dry, raspy voice cutting through the silence of the clinic, “Now we wait. The ether we gave both of them will be wearing off in the next hour or so and we will have a better idea of their pain levels and overall condition then.”

Faith nodded as she glanced over to the man on the table next to her. His dark skin a sharp contrast to the new set of clean white sheets wrapped around him. His face, thin with a strong, sharp jaw, was kind. His dark brown eyes, for the short time she had to look into them, were sad, weary, but a strong soul shined through. She wondered what his name was. 

She had removed to bullets from his body: one in the leg and another in the stomach. The former had nicked an artery near his femur and had caused a tremendous amount of internal bleeding. After several minutes, she had managed, with Carson’s guidance, to stem the bleeding but it was still unclear if too much blood had been lost to save the leg. Faith prayed she hadn’t been too late… the man seemed too good to lose something as precious as a leg. 

Faith turned to look at Carson’s operating table… at Jack Thornton. 

His face had regained some of its color, though his lips were still too blue for her liking. 

Carson had removed a total of two bullets and sewn three wounds shut. Two from his shoulder and chest and one from his stomach. The one in his stomach had been a clean through and through with no major organs or veins severed or nicked. One of the bullets in his shoulder had hit the shoulder’s ball socket, had splintered and been lodged in the bone. The other… the other had very nearly missed Jack’s left lung, instead, shattering one of his rib bones and partially tearing through the skin of his back before stopping there. 

“How bad is it, Carson?” Faith’s eyes darted from Jack’s resting form to the Carson’s weary eyes.

Carson glanced over at the stranger on Faith’s operating table, “Depending on how much blood loss Jack’s friend suffered, he could lose his leg. Infection is the most dangerous thing for him right now. We will need to keep his bandages and wounds as clean as possible. 

“And Jack?”

A deep, slow breath flowed past Carson’s lips, “Recovery will be long and slow and painful for Jack. His shoulder… I got the bullet out and tried as best I could to minimize the splintering of the bone but I would expect that he will have limited range of motion in it for the rest of his life. The wound to his stomach will be annoying and painful but should heal relatively quickly.”

Carson took a step closer to Jack’s comatose form, studying the young man’s pale face and blue lips, “He is suffering from hypothermia, which was most likely exacerbated by blood loss. Ironically, though, I think that’s the only reason he didn’t die before he got here.”

Faith’s eyes narrowed in confusion. Carson noticed and continued to explain.

“When the body begins to go into hypothermic shock, the blood vessels and arteries to narrow, restricting blood flow and reducing oxygen to the heart. I think that restriction of blood flow prevented Jack from bleeding out and dying. It also prevented any bone from his shattered rib to enter the blood stream. In a way… in a way it was a blessing in disguise.”

Faith tore her gaze from Carson back to Jack. Multiple blankets encased his body as well as several hot water bottles to get his body temperature back up, “What about nerve and cerebral damage due to lack of oxygen?”

“Again,” Carson began to answer, “we won’t know the answers to those questions until he wakes up and is able to communicate with us.”

Carson looked over at the young woman beside him, her eyes darting between the two men she had worked so hard to save. 

“You did well, Faith,” Carson’s voice cut through the horrific thoughts racing through her mind. She looked up at the doctor, his short blonde hair was disheveled and his pressed clothes were rumpled and blood stained. Dark circles sat underneath his steely blue eyes. A tired smile danced across his lips for just a moment as his hands began to shake from overuse. _Thank God,_ Faith thought, _thank you, God, for Faith._

“We both did,” Faith replied, a small smile graced her lips.

Carson nodded before looking out the large shop window at the front of the clinic. The sun was setting. Deep, warm oranges and reds and pinks filled the operating room. Carson took in the light and color and warmth, inhaled deeply as he prepare himself to walk out the front door to deliver his final piece of news to Jack Thornton’s family.  

———————————————————————————————————————

Abigail Stanton had experienced more than she ever thought she would. She had never expected to lose her father to influenza when she was only eight. She had never expected to lose her mother the first year of her marriage. She had never expected to lose her husband and son in one fell swoop of Death’s unfeeling scythe. 

She had never expected to feel hope or happiness again with the death of Noah and Peter. She had never expected to laugh, deep in her belly at a joke or to sing so freely and honestly a church hymn on Sunday. She had never expected God to bless her with another chance to be a mother. She had never expected to understand the boundless love that she had only read about in her Bible. Not after she had experienced so much death and destruction and heartbreak. 

And then a young, idealistic, wet behind the ears school teacher rode into town with too many luggage cases filled with clothes… but books too. And a Mountie, with a good heart and desire to prove himself to the world and to make his father proud, road in on a black horse right behind the clumsy, accidental arsonist of a school teacher. 

Abigail opened her home to Elizabeth and without even realizing it, her heart too. She watched as Elizabeth walked to the saloon every day, chalk pieces and readers and lunch pale in hand. She watched as the children of Hope Valley grew and learned and laughed in a way that they hadn’t since the mining disaster. She watched as the town fell in love with Elizabeth Thatcher’s spirit and sass and dedication. She watched as the Mountie, so angry and annoyed at being placed in such a sleepy frontier town, fell in love with her too. 

Abigail watched as the school teacher and the Mountie, unsure of what to make of each other, but drawn to one another all the same, began a friendship that had the promise of something greater. She pitied Jack as he floundered in trying to court Elizabeth, all the while knowing that their friendship was destined for so much more. She held Elizabeth when Jack road out of town on his temporary assignment to Cape Fullerton, tears falling down the school teacher’s face when Elizabeth Thatcher finally realized that Jack Thornton meant something more to her than she ever thought possible. 

Abigail Stanton never thought she would love anyone the way she loved her son. But God, in His infinite grace and wisdom, had shown Abigail the depths of her heart… had shown her, with Elizabeth and Jack, with Cody, that love was endless and limitless. So was hope….

So Abigail hoped as she sat beside Elizabeth, who was currently nursing her son and humming a soft lullaby. She hoped for the school teacher and the Mountie who loved one another desperately. She hoped for the son and daughter she never hoped to ask God for again, only for Him to bless her with anyway. She hoped for baby Thatcher, nestled safely in his mother’s arms, that he wouldn’t suffer the fate of growing up without a father. She hoped and prayed to God that she would not lose another son. 

And when Tom Thornton came rushing up the stairs, out of breath but with a smile on his face, Abigail thanked God for the thousandth time for rewarding her hope… her faith. 

“He’s awake, Elizabeth…he’s _awake_.”

 ———————————————————————————————————————

Elizabeth had nearly drowned as a child. 

If she thought about it long enough, she could remember the feeling of fear as the waves crashed over her head and pulled her underneath the water. She could remember what it felt like to feel the water filling up her lungs and her mind growing dim as the air left her body. 

She could remember how it felt to be pulled out from beneath the water. She could remember what it felt like to feel the crisp ocean air hit her face as the clean, salty air filled her lungs and the only remnant of the waves were the soft melodious sounds of water crashing onto the sand.

It was that same assurance she felt when Jack held her close as they danced. It was that same peace she felt as she would watch him sketch or paint in the dying hours of the day before he dimmed the lamps and walked behind her up the stairs to go to bed. It was that same rush she felt as he kissed her softly and whispered, “I love you,” sweetly in her ear. 

It was how she felt as Tom rushed up the stairs, smiling so brightly.

“He’s awake, Elizabeth…he’s _awake_.”

 ———————————————————————————————————————

 


	14. What Am I To Say, What Am I To Do?

A soft, gentle breeze danced across the beautiful golden meadow and the warm, yellow sun kissed his skin as it began to set. Tall grasses swayed to and fro, bending gentle under his calloused hands as they skimmed the tops of the sea of green. Church bells rang out in the distance, calling out the beginning of a new hour, a gentle reminder that evening had begun. He could see her standing on the open, inviting wrap around porch. Her auburn hair, nearly a fiery red if the sun caught it just so, fluttered about her face. She was smiling brightly, holding something in her arms, a baby, he realized after closer inspection. He watched her for a moment, a sense of well earned peace flooding all his senses. A smile spread across his lips. 

He realized that she was now watching him, forcing a quiet blush to creep up his neck and cheeks. It didn’t matter how long they had known each other, how long they had loved one another… her gaze would always make him blush. 

“Papa! Papa!” A sharp, excited voice broke through the calm silence surrounding the country home.

Jack turned his gaze from Elizabeth to see a young boy, no older than five, sprinting through a shimmering golden meadow. A shock of chestnut brown hair, tapered close on the sides and gradually growing longer on the top, covered his head. A dazzling gapped tooth grin and deep cut dimples graced his rounded face. Brilliant blue eyes, eyes like his mother, were wide and bright and beautiful as they locked onto Jack. 

Without a thought, the boy leapt into Jack’s arms as his father lifted him up to rest against his side. Jack’s smile grew wider, nearly splitting his cheeks.

“And just what do you think you’re doing, pal?” Jack asked as the boy giggled. He wrapped his short, lanky arms around Jack’s neck, pulling his father closer. Jack held the boy tightly, placing a gentle kiss to the side of his head while taking in the scent of his hair and clothes and skin. 

_“I love you, Papa,”_ the boy’s voice was soft and sweet, a tender sound that seemed to break Jack’s heart as it mended it.

“I love you too, son,” Jack whispered back as he placed another kiss to the boy’s temple, “I love you so.”

The boy pulled away from Jack’s chest and placed a tiny, stubby hand on either side of Jack’s strong jaw and chiseled cheeks. An eternity passed between them as hazel and sapphire eyes gazed at one another. 

_“It’s time, Papa. It’s time to come back.”_

Jack’s brow furrowed as confusion set into his features, “What are you talking about, pal? I’m right here.”

The boy ignored him, _“It’s time to come home, Papa. Me and Mama need you to come home.”_

“Son,” Jack began, pulling the boy closer to him still, “I’m right here.”

_“You can do it, Papa,”_ the boy’s voice was strong and sure, _“I know you can.”_

_Jack could hear a baby crying. He turned his gaze from the boy in his arms to Elizabeth as she gently paced the length of the porch. The bundle in her arms was crying, begging for something. She raised the baby up to her shoulder, patting its back and singing sweetly to it. The infant continued to cry, though intermittently, and began to settle against its mother’s chest._

_He realized that Elizabeth was now watching him, her gaze strong, yet pleading._

_The baby began to cry again…._

* * *

A deep breath filled his lungs, though a sharp, stabbing pain in his ribs made him wince. Sweat soaked his clothes and gathered onto his forehead. His eyes opened to narrow slits, taking in the unfamiliar ceiling of the unfamiliar room. It was white, crisp and clean. Several windows on either side of the room let the deep reds and oranges of the setting sun come flooding in. The bed that he was laying in was not his, though it reminded him an awful lot of the cot he used to sleep in when he still lived at the jailhouse.

He heard someone singing softly… singing his favorite song.

His head turned slowly, seeking out the voice that echoed gently in the room… a voice that felt so familiar and safe. And then he saw her.

Elizabeth had her back turned to him, swaying gently from side to side and softly singing “Oh, Danny Boy.” Her auburn hair was let down, the strands coming down in silky waves. His fingers itched with the impulse to run his through it. He could tell she wasn’t wearing a corset, her breaths longer and smoother and her movements more fluid. He wanted to cry as he watched her from a distance. Dear God, how could he have ever forgotten how beautiful she was? She twisted slightly and lowered what she was carrying down beside her into a pram… a tiny child with a shock of dark brown hair. 

Jack’s eyes shot open and he attempted to sit up quickly until a searing discomfort radiated in his abdomen and shoulder. It was a torturous, excruciating pain that he had never experienced and it knocked the air out of him as his body tensed in agony. A pitiful whimper escaped his lips and tears filled his eyes instantly. 

Elizabeth turned to the pained cry coming from the other side of the room and her breath stilled. 

“Jack,” she whispered his name like a prayer, beautiful and strained and loving.

She rushed over to him, settling next to him in a chair that sat beside the bed he lay in. She placed a cool, gentle hand, on his cheek, rubbing her thumb softly against his beard. She wanted helplessly as Jack’s body tensed slightly, reacting to the caress, before he took a calming breath and his body lowered back onto the cot. His eyes remained shut.

“Jack,” Elizabeth whispered again, begging to see his hazel eyes, if only for a moment, “It’s time to come back, Jack. We need you to come back.”

A moment passed and Elizabeth feared that it was just another tease, another false promise that he was awake and his fever was broken and he was finally out of the woods… and then Jack’s eyes were open and fixed upon her and he spoke, “Elizabeth.”

She let out a sob, tears falling freely down her face as she placed a hand on either of Jack’s cheeks and kissed his forehead, his brow, his lips. She felt his right hand move to rest on the back of her head, his rough hands carding through her silky strands. His touch was loving and reverent and so blissfully tender that Elizabeth began to cry against his lips. 

“Elizabeth,” he said again, a gentle breath against her mouth.

Elizabeth pulled away and looked Jack’s handsome, haggard face. He had a large bruise and cut to his right cheek, just on top of the bone. He had a full beard now, something she knew he would hate and make him itch after a few days. His hair was longer, falling over the top of his brow and the damp ends on the back were beginning to curl. She tried not to think about what tragedy befell him and his unit when she glanced over and saw the tip of his left ear missing. She glanced down at his bare chest. Thick bandages were wrapped around his abdomen and light, dark pink spots were beginning to show underneath the crisp white gauze, a clear indication that it was time to redress his bullet wounds. His shoulder was wrapped and his left arm was strapped across his chest to prevent any movement. She noticed the sheen of sweat across his skin… _thank God. His fever broke._

“Oh Jack,” was all Elizabeth could muster as she kissed him again. 

“Am I dreaming,” Jack asked, his voice raspy with fatigue.

“No, Jack,” Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. _You’re not dreaming… I’m not dreaming_ , “You’re home, sweetheart. You’re home.”

Tears welled in Jack’s eyes and Elizabeth’s heart broke at the sight. His free hand rose once again, to rest on her cheek. Elizabeth held it in place and for a small eternity, hazel and sapphire eyes gazed at one another before Elizabeth rested her forehead against his.

“You’re here,” Jack whispered.

“ _You’re_ here,” Elizabeth promised. 

The young couple sat in silence, basking in the presence of one another. It was a precious commodity they had both been forced to live without for nearly a year. With each second that passed, it became painfully clear how horribly they had missed one another, how much strength it had taken to work and live and fight without the other standing beside them. Elizabeth was suddenly tired and she wanted to do was lay down beside Jack in their feather bed with Thatcher nestled safely between them. A tear rolled down her round cheek with the knowledge that her wish wouldn’t be granted for a little while longer. 

Jack pulled back from their tender embrace to get a better look at his wife. Her face was rounder, her cheeks softer. Her hair seemed softer somehow and an angelic glow seemed to radiate all around her. Her blue eyes had deepened and there was a confidence an assuredness that hadn’t been there before. She had always been strong, but Jack could see an immovable force of nature now brewing in her steady, beautiful gaze. 

“God, I’ve missed you, Elizabeth,” was all he could think to say.

Elizabeth smiled and a breathless chuckle escaped her lips while tears continued to fall, “I’ve missed you so, Jack. I’ve been so worried, sweetheart. Carson… Carson wasn’t sure you would.…he wasn’t sure….”

Jack’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed, his mind already focusing. He looked at his wife, that steady, newfound strength in her stare, but fear had settled and mixed with it, “How bad a state was I in?”

Elizabeth took a breath, stopping for just a moment to take Jack in again, her fingers brushing tenderly across his brown, “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for a week. You were hypothermic and you ended up with gunshot wounds. Carson and Faith were operating on the both of you for several hours and shortly after they were finished you broke out into a fever. Carson was worried that the wounds had already been infected.”

Elizabeth stopped, the memory of Carson’s explanation and his attempt to help her understand the grim possibility of Jack dying still haunted her thoughts.

Jack watched his wife carefully, reading the subtle twitch of her lips and the clench of her jaw. He watched she turned away from him, the delicate curve of her neck as she turned to look behind her at the sleeping baby in the the pram. Suddenly Jack realized… remembered his dream and the crying babe and the reason he woke up.

“Elizabeth,” Jack struggled to breathe as everything began to come into focus.

Elizabeth turned her attention back to her husband. His eyes were wide, his jaw nearly slack and his gaze was fixed upon the pram and the sleeping baby in it. She knew her name was all he could think to instead of one of the million questions running through his mind. Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile at his dumbfounded expression as she stood up from her seat beside him, walking over to their son and picking up his slumbering form. She was steady and sure in her movements as she walked over to Jack’s right side with their son in hand.

Jack watched in awe as she placed an extra pillow underneath his good arm and helped him curl it just so and as she placed the child carefully next to him, “Jack, I would like you to meet our son, Jack Thatcher Thornton.”

His gaze danced between her and the beautiful baby boy nestled into his side, the small child sucking gently on his tiny thumb. A single tear fell down from his eyes and Jack could do nothing but stare at the tiny life that slept peacefully beside him. 

“Oh Elizabeth,” Jack was breathless as he gawked at the sleeping baby beside him. Thatcher was so tiny, were all babies so tiny? A heavy feeling settled in his chest, a desire and drive to protect and love that took his breath away. Jack stole a glance at Elizabeth as she watched father and son interact for the first time. 

He had often wondered at how he and Elizabeth could love each other so fully, so desperately. It scared him, sometimes, about how much his heart had become entwined with hers, how powerfully he cared for her and how dependent he had become to her love. One thing was certain, though… Jack Thornton could never love anyone as much as he loved Elizabeth Thatcher…. 

How could he have been so wrong?

Jack watched as his son twitched silently in his sleep, his short stubby legs kicking lightly before stretching out and tucking himself into Jack. He watched as Thatcher sucked gently on his thumb and rolled his head to rest against Jack’s side. How could he love someone so much after just a few moments? How was it possible for his heart to swell this much?

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he,” was Elizabeth’s tiny remark.

“He’s perfect,” Jack answered resolutely. 

He back up at his wife to see a mesmerizing, lazy smile graced her lips. Elizabeth’s eyes were on Thatcher and Jack took the moment to bask in the sight of her once more.

“He’s so well behaved already,” Elizabeth explained, “it’s only been one week but he’s already getting into a sleep schedule and regular feedings,” she chuckled before continuing, “Abigail is quite jealous actually. She told me that we shouldn’t expect such an easy sleeper with our next one. I’m afraid to say that Thatcher is an outlier as far as babies are concerned.”

Humor danced in Elizabeth’s eyes as she looked up at her husband, ready for a quick, teasing retort. All she found was sadness in his gaze. 

“He’s a week old?” Jack asked, his voice suddenly void of any emotion. She could see his heart breaking as some unnamed emotion cast a shadow over his features. She could see the cogs of mind begin to turn, playing different parts of their conversation and locking onto the horrible truth of the night of Thatcher’s birth. And suddenly, anger and disappointment stretched across his face and settled in his gaze.

“I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I’m so sorry,” Jack said bitterly. 

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed in confusion, “Why are you, sorry, Jack,” she asked him earnestly, placing a hand on either side of his face, “You’re here. You’re _alive_. You came home, you came home to both of us. Why on Earth are you apologizing?”

“I left you for months and I very nearly could have done exactly what my father did to my mother,” Jack’s words were biting and unforgiving as he laid out his offenses, “something that I promised I would never do to you. I might have made you a widow and left our child behind….”

“I don’t give a damn about what might have happened.” Elizabeth cut him off abruptly, her language shocking, “All I know is that the night our son was born you came back. I don’t care how… how can I? You can tell me you’re sorry all you like, Jack Thornton, but I refuse to let you feel guilty about doing exactly what you promised to try and do. You’re _here_ , Jack. All three of us are here.”

“I should have been here. I should have been with you… you shouldn’t have had to do all of this alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” Elizabeth refused to let him take blame for what was out of his control, “I had Rosie and Abigail. I had Julie and my mother. Even Tom was here, Jack. I was never alone.”

Jack tore his gaze from her and looked back down to Thatcher, the babe oblivious to the world, save the two people in this world who loved him most.

“I should have been here,” he whispered. Elizabeth was unsure if the remark was meant for her or for Thatcher.

Elizabeth lifted her hand to his head, carding her fingers through Jack’s hair, and used her nails to lightly scratch his scalp, something she knew relaxed him even on the hardest, longest day. She was rewarded with a peaceful sigh from her husband. Jack’s eyes closed softly, his head slowly sinking back onto his pillow as she continued her massage. She placed her other hand gently onto Jack’s chest, careful of the bandages that covered his body. Elizabeth’s care was rewarded with the gentle thump of Jack’s heart underneath her palm.

“You were, Jack,” Elizabeth whispered as she attempted to lull her husband to rest, “you were with me every step of the way.”

“I…” Jack’s eyes drooped and shot back open, “I don’t want to miss anything else…” Jack paused again as a sharp pain stretched across his face, “I’m scared, Elizabeth. I’m scared… I’ll miss everything.”

Jack’s words shook Elizabeth to her core. She had heard them before, she had seen the darkness of them sewn into the fabric of his letters. A fear had settled into Jack’s heart the longer he was away from home, a bone chilling sadness that she worried had taken hold in his heart. Jack was never afraid for himself, only the ones he loved. He worried for her while he was away. He worried for Tom when he was still so lost and searching for what kind of man he wanted to be. He worried that his mother may be lonely despite her assurances that she was fulfilled and content. 

But Elizabeth knew that this time, Jack was scared for himself. She just couldn’t figure out what had him so frightened. 

“You won’t, Jack. You won’t miss anything else. You’re home now, love. You’re home and you're safe, Jack. You’re safe, sweetheart.”

His eyes were fluttering closed again, his breathing evening out. His jaw ticked and Elizabeth knew that he was finally giving in to the tiredness settling into his bones, “I… I love you, Elizabeth.”

She placed a tender kiss to Jack’s brow, “I love you, Jack Thornton. Rest.”

* * *

Constable Nathaniel Roy, to many of his peers, was not a true Mountie. Immediately after graduating from the academy, he was stationed in Vancouver. It was a bustling metropolis that had crime to be sure, but did little to challenge the survival instincts and knowledge of those that policed it. And while his fellow Mounties considered breaking up fights in saloons in westward pioneer towns to be a slow day, Constable Nathaniel Roy was lucky if he had anything more to do than help a lost child find their way back home.

He was lucky in many ways, to have a patrol in a nice part of a nice town where neighbors were kind to one another and made his job and life fairly easy. But it was also frustrating and debilitating. The lack of action on his patrol beat, along with the urban setting, made it difficult when dealing with the rest of his fellow Mounties. 

He wasn’t great with people, never had been. He was shy and struggled to create rapport with anyone and he found it difficult to display sympathy and compassion in regards to those he vowed to protect. Not because he was incapable of feeling, he just didn’t know how to express it properly. But what Nathaniel lacked in emotional capability, he made up for with intellect. Nathaniel was a sharp investigator, able to pick up on minute details that so many others would skip over. 

And so, when opiates and cocaine began to riddle his community, when need for a special task force to capture the dealers and their runners arose, Constable Nathaniel Roy jumped at the chance to prove himself. 

Within four months of the new drug detachment formed, Nathaniel had lead to several major arrests in the drug ring in Vancouver. Within seven months, Nathaniel had helped discover the runners’ use of the railroad to push their product out to the western settlements. And within a year, Constable Nathaniel Roy, soon to be promoted to Corporal, had helped pinpoint the locations of several drug holds and weapons caches in the Northwest Territories. 

He had proven himself to be a smart, true, and loyal Mountie. 

But as he stood in the small infirmary of Hope Valley (a beautiful settlement town that had grown and thrived despite all its hardships) and stared down at Captain Jack Thornton, pale from blood loss and hypothermia, riddled with bullet wounds and cuts and bruises, Nathaniel couldn’t help but feel like a fraud. 

As he glanced over at Jeremiah Tremblay, a man that Jack Thornton had captured and vouched for and help gain pardon — a man that Nathaniel would most assuredly have thrown into a prison cell without a second thought, knowing him to be nothing more than a criminal attempting to evade justice — Nathaniel felt guilt and shame for assuming so much about a man who risked his own life to save Captain Thornton’s. 

And now, as he stood beside Corporal Matthew VanNoppen as they surveyed the battled camp in front of him, Constable Nathaniel Roy once again felt the weight of his masquerade. 

To make matters worse, Constable Nathaniel Roy wanted to vomit. 

Blood drenched the ground, creating an odd, burgundy hue to the normally crisp, white snow. A quick scan of the area had him counting almost thirty dead bodies, six of them Mounties. Most of the bodies were clustered near the outskirts of the camp, hidden behind scraggly brush and felled, rotting trees. Nathaniel deduced that they had been using it for cover, most likely firing shots at the center of camp, where the Mounties and captured outlaws were stationed.

Rigor mortis, along with the freezing temperatures, had stiffened the bodies to the point that he and Corporal VanNoppen could not remove them from the ground. It would seem that the casualties of the fire fight were to be a permanent part of this barren wasteland. Rotten seeds planted into sour earth. Constable Nathaniel Roy shivered at the thought.

“This is Lao, correct?”

Nathaniel looked up from carnage surrounding him as Corporal VanNoppen’s question rang out in the silence around them. 

The Corporal was standing over a dead Chinese man. His ebony hair coated with snow and his lips painfully blue. His frozen chest caked with blood. Nathaniel walked over to the body, studying it closely, mind wandering over the sketches and descriptions of Lao as well as his own brief interaction with the opiate dealer. He took in the straight edged jaw, the sharp nose and ebony black hair. The deep brown eyes, now lifeless, staring back at him. 

Nathaniel swallowed the bile collecting at the back of his throat, “Yes.”

Nathaniel watched as Corporal VanNoppen nodded silently and stepped over the dead bodies of his fellow Mounties… his fallen brothers. He moved past Lao’s frozen body, walking over to the rucksacks placed beside the burnt remains of where a fire once burned. Nathaniel watched as his superior officer began to rifle through the bags.

“What are you doing,” Nathaniel asked, finally finding his voice.

VanNoppen continued to search the packs, never looking up from his self appointed task, “Lao told us that he had a business log and warehouse manifest with him when we overtook the camp. Jack sent me out before we could find it, he was worried about being out numbered and and wanted reinforcements sooner rather than later. I’m checking to see if he found it.”

VanNoppen pulled a rucksack out from underneath the body of a dead Mountie, letting it fall to the ground with a crude thud on the frozen ground. Nathaniel watched as VanNoppen carried on with his task, completely oblivious to his dishonorable action. 

An affronted grunt passed through Nathaniel’s lips.

“Do you have a problem, Constable?” VanNoppen’s voice was sharp and unyielding. 

“I do, sir,” Nathaniel’s voice was sharp with conviction and the unmistakable sense of pride that comes from the knowledge of moral authority, “I have a problem with you treating the dead with so little respect as to shove them aside for the potential of the thought of a piece of evidence that you don’t even know with certainty is here! I have a problem with you being so callous at the sight of your fellow Mounties dead and rotting! —”

“This is what we do!” VanNoppen’s voice rang out, cutting Nathaniel off and disrupting the sleepy silence of the wintry wasteland around them, “We fight and die and we move on!”

Nathaniel’s eyes narrowed at the callousness of the man in from to him. It must have shown in his face because VanNoppen’s snarl fell and a shadow fell over his face and a deep sadness filled his eyes and Nathaniel couldn’t help but feel even more like a fraud.

“I know it’s horrible to look at,” VanNoppen’s voice grew softer and Nathaniel could see that VanNoppen’s previous remarks were nothing more than a mask, a mantra he had repeated to himself over and over again during the long months of his posting in the Northern Territories.

“I know it’s something out of a nightmare,” VanNoppen continued, “but I’ve seen this before. I’ve lived this nightmare for months…I’ve seen it too many times…”

The corporal’s head fell and his jaw clenched. Words flittered about in his head, trying desperately to find the right combination to explain to Nathaniel, a man not much younger than himself, but who had been blessed with the ignorance of the knowledge of just how many different ways men could tear each other apart.

“It’s not that I don’t care about these men. It’s not that I don’t care that so many men have died. I _do_ care. I care _too_ much. And if I think about _this_ ,” VanNoppen gestured to the carnage around him, “if I think about how scared everyone must have been, how desperately they all fought to survive, it will break me. So I _don’t_ think about it. I step over them and I get back to work because it’s all I have control over. They’re beyond our help and crying for them won’t bring them back and it won’t help us end all this stupid fighting any sooner and prevent any future pointless .”

Nathaniel swallowed harshly, bile and guilt and fraudulence coating his throat. 

Corporal VanNoppen knelt back down to finish his task. 

Nathaniel helped search the rucksacks. He found Jack’s letters from home, Fraser’s journal and a tattered bible that belonged to Ouimet. No manifest or business ledger. The silent curse that escaped from VanNoppen’s lips told Nathaniel that he had no luck in his search either. Regardless, the two Mounties gathered the rucksacks of their brothers in arms. If their families wouldn’t be able to give their sons proper burials, Nathaniel and VanNoppen were determined to return their belongs to their families. 

Nathaniel placed his gloved hands onto his knee, ready to push himself up from the permafrost beneath his feet… then he noticed it….

A beautiful octagonally shaped onyx cufflink, circled with silver filigree and a single round cut diamond in its center. 

“Does this belong to anyone,” Nathaniel asked VanNoppen, his eyes never leaving the sleek, ornate jewelry piece.

“Why the hell would any of us have cufflinks on out here?” was VanNoppen’s gruff reply.

“No one would,” Nathaniel answered, “so why is there one out here?”

* * *

 

 

 


End file.
